


Communication breakdown

by mimerswell



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: 1980's AU, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Language, Facials, Former Partners, Homophobic Language, Killing, M/M, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, Offensive Jokes, Past Events, Rough Sex, Shootings, Soft sex, Trust Issues, cum-fixation, former partners in crime, roadtrip to Me-hi-co
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimerswell/pseuds/mimerswell
Summary: Arthur drives Micah to the Mexican border, making a few bewildering stops along the way.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 27
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although not canon, a lot of plot details and map locations are taken from the game but altered to fit the fine mess I've created here. I found this fic truly terrible but a good way for myself to just stop caring and write something for the sake of writing whatever comes to mind. If it resembles any other fic, sorry, I haven't read every work within this fandom. I was meaning to post this work as a one-shot since I consider it best read in one go, but that would've been too massive. It ain't even finished yet, so eh. 
> 
> Mind the tags. Enjoy!

1\. wild man on the loose

One hot summer night, particularly dark and quiet, six guards patrol the area inside the massive walls surrounding Sisika Penitentiary. It's 00:31 and they have a long way to go till their shifts would end in the morning. Only then could they take the boat back to mainland, some returning to their waking families, some to the softness of their bed and more than a few to the comfort of the bottle to sleep the whole day away until their next shift. 

The Sisika Penitentiary was a producing and self-sustaining place; prisoners working fields like farmers and others sewing clothes, shipments of vegetables and prison uniforms - for other facilities of its kind - were sent off frequently from the island. 

Heaven for some, hell for others, it's not unlike any other prison. Except this was one of the few standing around since 1844 without too many renovations because of the natural security the island offered. With Lemoyne being a rather poor state of the country, Sisika hadn't been a priority to improve. 

As the clock strikes 02:19, a prison guard with the name of Carver stops for some cheap small talk with his fellow man Hughes, sharing a smoke. 

"Hot night." 

"Yeah." 

At least they didn't suffer from mosquitoes like they did on mainland. 

"How's Rita and the kids?" Carver takes a long drag from the cigarette before handing it to his friend. 

"The older ones got their summer break starting on Thursday… And Rita, she's knocked up again…" 

"No shit?" 

" _Y_ _eah_ shit…" Hughes confirms seriously and taps lightly at the cigarette to get the ash off. "And with a fourth one on the way, she keeps on nagging on me why I haven't bought her a ring yet." 

Carver whistles solemnly. "Geez. Don't you got a baby _already_ at home?" 

"Yup." 

Carver smirks. "Is this where you advice me to think twice about the family life? To…enjoy my freedom while it lasts?" he teases. 

"I'll admit… some days I'd like to take the car and drive as far west the gas will take me. Start again someplace else, you know?" Hughes drops a tired but genuine smile. "But then I see the happy faces my kids make when I come home and the smile on Rita's face when we have dinner together and it's like… I wouldn't want to be elsewhere but there."

"Then I suppose you wouldn't want to take a couple of beers tomorrow night along with the other boys? It's our night off and all. First round's on me."

Hughes drops the cigarette and puts out the light with his boot. "Nah. I need to save up for the baby and that goddamn ring Rita have had her eyes on." 

Carver nods quietly to him. Both being around the same age in their late twenties, he figures being a father and eventually husband could change one's priorities drastically. He wouldn't know. 

Just as they are about to continue their nightly patrol in different directions, a deafening alarm goes off and red lights start to spin along with the noise. 

"You don't think…?" Hughes starts to ask but doesn't finish his sentence. 

"Shit, we have to get there!"

Having patrolled closest to it, both of them start to run towards the door that leads inside the facility. 

"Fuck, you heard that??" Hughes exclaims as they hear clear gunshots from inside the building. 

The commotion is enough to draw the few patrolling guards towards the source. The spotlights from the two watchtowers move over the area inside the wall like seeking eyes.

"Get that door open!" Hughes yells to his fellow man as they reach the door first. "There's no way they've reached the halls yet." 

Carver fumbles with finding the right key to fit the lock of the sturdy metal door. 

"Hurry! We've got to get in there!" 

Just as Carver turns the right key and hears a click despite the loud and consistent noise above them, the door is pushed open with a force from the inside. 

A spray of pellets is pumped into Carver's head and chest and he flies backwards in the air only to die before he's even landed on the ground. 

Getting hit by a few pellets of his own in the face, a half blinded Hughes stumbles backwards while lifting his rifle to wildly release a rain of bullets towards the armed man on the other side of the doorframe. 

He blinks and blinks with blood in his eyes. Blood from himself and from his friend. Squinting his eyes, he realises there's a body of a prisoner lying dead on his stomach, half of him inside the facility, the other half outside directly in the spotlight. 

"Hughes!" distant voices call out, belonging to the patrolling guards that had been on the far end of the perimeter. 

Hughes backs away with a few shakes of his head, holding the rifle still aimed at the opening. "I got him! I got him!" He calls out. He looks down at his dead friend. "Fuck… Fuck, he shot Carver!" he yells with his voice cracking. "He-" 

He isn't prepared to get another shot fired into his shoulder and he lands on his back on the ground. The two guards in the watchtower shoot towards the opened door once more but none is able to locate the shooter at first. 

They're in the window…!" Hughes struggles to call out but of course no one can hear him. 

The fire is answered rapidly and flying to all directions beneath them, hitting all of the running guards. Glass from the spotlight is shattered into a thousand pieces as the shooters send bullets flying towards the watchtowers as well. 

Barely understanding what is happening, Hughes gazes towards the door as the shooting finally stops. Two still standing prisoners eventually walk outside with weapons ready, their garbs splattered with blood that isn't theirs. 

"And they say no one escapes Sisika," one of the prisoners comments as he takes in the view of the dead bodies spread out inside the walls. 

Once upon a time a feared maximum-security prison facility, Sisika Penitentiary is outdated in its timeline. With savage men still being taken across the waters to do their times on the island, a successful riot and escape had always been a ticking bomb waiting to explode. 

One of the men taking his freedom back by force that particularly bright and chaotic night is Micah Bell. 

"And who could imagine I would be the first," Micah answers his accomplice before he nods towards their last obstacle. "We just need to open _that_ gate. Then we're fucking out of here."

Micah scratches his head as he squats by the first guard within their reach. He goes through his pockets and takes the few dollars he has on him. Then he swaps rifle with him. 

"The fuck are you doing?? We need to go, Micah!" 

"Ryan, Ryan, oh sweet Ryan. Will you.. Calm the hell down, I just need some cash." Micah answers while kicking lightly at the next guard. "What's _this?_ A _breathing_ one?" 

Hughes' lips tremble as he tries to form words, looking up at the smiling character.

"It's Hughes," Ryan informs with a frown. 

"Officer Hughes. Oh I couldn't see you under all that…" the blonde chuckles lightly. "...all that blood! Ha! _My_ bad. How very _nice_ to see you. It's been a while," Micah speaks politely, holding the rifle pointed sideways. 

"Please, Micah… don't shoot me like you did them… I've got a family… they're expecting me back home…" 

Micah looks down at the bloody figure with a wide smile. "I just love when they beg for their lives," he says and throws a glance at Ryan next to him with a few trembles of his shoulders. "It almost gives me the bumps." 

The fellow prisoner stands on his spot uncomfortably. 

"I prefer when they do it on their knees though," the blonde continues and moves the rifle to fire away at the bleeding man beneath him. "Whoo!" he exclaims by the firepower of the weapon in his hands. He goes through the pockets of the now dead guard, looking briefly over the bold picture of the man's wife and then at the one on his children. Micah digs for the cash and tosses the wallet aside. " _Now_ , Ryan, we can go," he informs as he is pleased with the amount of money in his hands. 

"Fucking finally." 

They unlock and open the big gate and move outside the walls of Sisika, running towards the jetty and the boat. 

As they get there, Micah is quick to jump down and on the boat. Ryan prepares to climb down but is stopped with a shove of Micah’s rifle towards his chest. "Nah-uh, ' _boyo'_. "

" _What_?" Ryan asks in confusion. 

"I said that _I_ would be the first to escape this island, not _we."_

"Stop fucking around, Micah!" 

"I ain't…" Micah once more aims swiftly before he fires wildly at the man standing slightly above him. "...fucking around." 

He watches as the man falls back and down in the water at the other side of the jetty with a splash. 

"Pfft. Fucking O'Driscollssss, man… never did like their kind," he mumbles under his breath before putting the rifle away in the seat next to him. 

Getting the engine started, Micah settle himself behind the steering wheel and start the ride towards mainland and his freedom. 

Getting up in high speed, he can only laugh as he turns his head to look back at the island he had wasted too many years of his life in. 

He can't stop the smile on his lips the whole ride across the Lanaheechee River, knowing exactly where he was headed. 

That is, until he sees the army of police cars on mainland - driving in a high speed of their own along the road to welcome anyone setting their foot on Lemoyne soil. 

"Aaaaaaah, you _sons of bitches!"_ A determined Micah makes a sharp right turn only a mile away from land, half standing up to maintain his balance. 

The police cars makes sharp u-turns to follow his new route north. 

He lasts a couple of minutes before he is eventually blinded by strong headlights coming from a speeding boat in the distance. With familiar red and blue lights like the cars in his sights, he is met by chopping sounds of bullets heading right towards him as he ignores all their orders. 

"You persistent bastards," he growls out as he ducks from the incoming projectiles. The bullets cut through his boat and water immediately starts to leak inside. 

He makes a split decision and jumps off the boat. 

  
  


2\. reunion of men 

Arthur Morgan hunkers down and barely breathes, looking through the scope of his rifle.

"There ya go, girl… come right to daddy." 

He fires and the wild boar in his sight is instantly killed and falls heavy on its side. Arthur lowers the rifle and watches the rest of the boar's family run off in panic. 

Trekking through the underbrush and plowing through the thickets with no intention of staying soundless anymore, he wipes off the sweat on his forehead with the arm of his shirt. 

Not wasting one second, he lifts the beastly form over his shoulders and returns in the direction of his horse. 

Arriving back at Willard's Rest after an hour's ride, he looks at his dog Cooper lying lazily on the porch to the house. 

Carrying down the stowed boar from his horse, he moves over to a well used wooden table beneath the roof shielding it and the stock of firewood next to the house. "You don't even greet me no more, Copp," he comments as he walks past the dog. 

The dog wags his tail quickly by the sound of his master's voice but shows no intention of getting up on his feet. 

"I reckon it's the least…" Arthur lowers the boar down on the table. "...you can do… since I'm the one feeding ya." 

Arthur moves without thinking about it to the nails banged into the wooden facade of the house. He searches with his hand at the different knives but sees that his preferable one is not there. 

"And what do I get in return, huh?" Moving around the corner again to the front of the house, Arthur carefully steps over the dog now lying completely on its side in the heat of the sun. "Bad winds and smelly licks in my face," he mutters as he stumbles through the front door and inside the house. 

Half listening to the radio, he walks through the small kitchen to fetch the sharp hunter knife lying bloody in the sink. Way too bloody. While dishing it, he pauses as he hears a certain news broadcast. 

_"...it was in the middle of last night, approximately at 2am, that a riot broke out at the Sisika Penitentiary, leaving several wounded and numerous casualties on the prison island. Although further investigation is required, surviving inmates of Sisika tell the same story - after holding one of the guards hostage with a knife to his throat, a group of inmates forced the other guards to unlock the weapon storage room. What happened next is described as an 'execution' as the armed inmates moved through the facility, shooting anyone on sight. The police is now looking for the inmate responsible for the onslaught - Thirty-nine year old Micah Bell. Same man is confirmed to have escaped the island by boat, before-"_

Arthur reaches up above the cupboard in an instant, getting his shotgun. Knowing for a certain it's loaded, he treads carefully through the house. 

With the house this size, he manages to see almost every corner of it except two rooms. Checking every hiding place on his way, he heads for the bedroom. Knowing, he hadn't touched the door before leaving that morning. 

The door standing ajar, he frowns as he hears a sound unfortunately too familiar. Pushing the door lightly with the long barrel, he doesn't have to search for long. 

Arthur lowers his weapon, holding it in one hand. Then he grunts, walking with loud steps towards his bed and the source of those heavy snores. 

He shoves at the figure lying on his bed. " _The hell_ do you think you're doing??" Arthur growls as he continues to deal out a few particularly hard slaps at the man to wake him. 

Micah jerks awake and instantly rolls around on the mattress in a moment of panic. 

Arthur lifts his weapon as warning and his face is one of focus. 

Micah who has his arms slightly raised in surrender, doesn't seem so frightened as he sees the weapon. "That's how you welcome an old friend… or should I say partner?" 

"You can say whatever you want. Both are a thing of the past," Arthur drawls. His hands doesn't shake in the slightest by the rare sight of Micah. 

Micah tuts him. "My… how you've changed Arthur. So… angry." 

Arthur lifts an eyebrow, not quite disagreeing. "I just heard the news, Micah."

"About what?" the blonde smiles innocently. 

"Stop playing. You know what." 

Micah slowly raises his arms higher from where he lies only to bury them under his head to use as pillow. "Oh. You mean Sisika?"

"Mm." 

"That old news," Micah waves off. "That was _yesterday_ and today is today."

Arthur can't help but roll his eyes. "What do you want, Micah?" 

"I really can't believe you're not happy to see me, Arthur." Although he exaggerates his sad voice, the other can pick up some truth in it. 

"It's been a long time," Arthur explains. Simply so. 

"That… It has," Micah agrees, positioning himself to lie more comfortably on the bed. "I'm happy to see _you_ ," he hums. 

"Shut your mouth." 

This draws an entertained chuckle from the other as he relaxes against the sheets. "You know, this a nice bed you have. An even nicer change from that hard and rusty bunk bed I had on Sisika. Hope you didn't mind I fell asleep in it." 

"Where is this going?" 

"Yes. Where, is, this, going, Arthur?" 

Arthur gets a new grip on his weapon, showing his patience running out. "I ask you again, and if you don't answer me right now, there'll be nothing left of that skull of yours," he threats with a furious voice. 

Micah seems to realise the seriousness in the situation, or at least consider it. "Huh." He breaks away and stares up at the ceiling instead. "I'll answer all your questions if you keep that gun pointed elsewhere. I don't want it in my face." 

Arthur nods towards him as answer, eyes drifting meaningfully all over his body.

"Are you serious right now? I don't got _nothing_ on me, Arthur. Well, I _had_ a rifle but I lost it when I crashed the boat. It's on the bottom of fucking Lanaheechee River." 

Arthur does not bend. 

Micah sighs with a low patience himself, lifting and pulling at his clothes so that the other could see he didn't have a single weapon on him. "Is that enough? Or do you want me to _strip?"_

"That would've stood out _less_ than the outfit you're wearing right now," Arthur spits but lowers the weapon before backing away from the man. 

Micah looks down at his body, giving a full smirk at the prison uniform. "I didn't really have the time to stop by the mall and buy some new clothes." He sits himself up, scooting to the edge of the bed so that he and Arthur are facing each other. 

The dark blonde leans himself against a dresser, half sitting on it, as he pulls out a pack of smokes from the chest pocket of his shirt. After lighting a cigarette, he watches the older very seriously. "Speak." 

Micah reaches his hand out, fingers dancing as they ask for a cigarette of his own. 

None is offered. "You can get one after you've explained why the hell you're here and what you want." 

Micah leans forward with elbows on his thighs, looking slightly upwards to the other. "I didn't do it, Arthur. Whatever they found me guilty of, it wasn't me." 

"This again…" 

" _Whyyyyyeee_ would I try and convince you of it if I ain't telling the truth? It's been six fucking years. Six loooong miserable years cramped together with intolerable and slow-minded men I wanted to kill every single day I spent there with them."

"So to prove you didn't kill that man and his woman, you go and kill everyone on that island instead, is that it?? Then you'll come back here in another six years of prison, telling me you didn't do that _neither??"_ Arthur's voice is loud but not uncontrolled. 

Micah looks away from him. "I'm not planning on going back there, _ever_. No. If I get caught, it's the fucking chair for me, alright? I cannot… Get. Caught."

"Then why did you escape, then? You only had twenty-eight more years to go," Arthur laughs. 

"Tweeeenty-eight years, Morgan. Do you realise how long that is?" His voice all but trembles. 

"Well. You'd still be alive," Arthur states and gets up. 

"Arthur, where are you going?" Micah questions when staring into his back. "Where are you going, Arthur?!" 

The other walks out of the room, heading towards the telephone and ignoring the other's hollering. 

"I _need_ you, Arthur!" 

Arthur halts in the middle of his movement. "What did you just say?" he questions and turns his head around. 

Micah stands by the doorframe, looking slightly desperate. "I'm heading to Mexico to start fresh. That's why I'm here. Because I need you and I can't get there without your help." 

"My help?" Arthur gestures at himself. _"My help?"_

"Yeeeees. _Your_ help." 

"You've really lost your mind now, Micah… I should've called the cops the second I laid eyes on you." Arthur gestures the shotgun at him while he speaks. "You know what…? I think I might do so now." He plants his hand over the telephone hanging on the wall. 

"I don't have anyone," Micah blurts out. "I'd call my brother but he probably would've find some way to shoot me through the telephone if I did." 

Arthur sighs, knowing all too well that Micah didn't have anyone. He takes a few slow steps towards the man, equal in length. With the shotgun in one hand, he pokes at the other. "Why do you think I would help you?" 

"Becaaause… you'd get rid of me once and for all. I can _never_ go back to this country and you know it. If I spend another damn day in that prison, I'd kill myself. And you know how I feel about suicide. Ain't. My. Style." 

Arthur huffs to that, seeming to think about getting Micah off his hands once and for all - something he believed he'd gotten six years ago. 

Micah leans himself to the doorframe, eyes locking with the other man as he whispers. "Besides… During all these years, I never talked about our little escapades. Not of yours… And not of Dutch’s. That last robbery we pulled - they're _still_ looking for the men responsible. But I didn't blabber on you. Not once, I did."

Seeming to have caught Arthur's attention, Micah glances down at the shotgun pressing to his stomach, daring to close his fingers around it. Guiding it to his side instead and out of its proximity, he gives a firm pull. 

A quiet Arthur lets himself get drawn closer to the other, their bodies almost touching. "Becaaause, that job was ' _my_ _shitty_ idea. My _responsibility'_ , as you were so keen on telling me during our last day together… you remember our last day together, Arthur?" 

Arthur’s eyes doesn't move away from the pleased face of Micah as the latter can see how _well_ Arthur remembers it. 

"So the way I see it - _you_ owe _me._ I could've tipped them off about anything just to save my own ass. About the things you and Dutch did back in the days. I could've mention every name of our merry little crew. It don't matter you've gotten your act straight and cleaned yourself up while I was gone. You're still the same purebreed scum as me, aren't you."

Arthur doesn't shy away as the blonde puts a hand on his waist, pulling him in so close that he could feel his warm breaths to his ear. "If I get caught, _you_ get caught. So you either help me…" Micah reaches his hand down to land over Arthur's that holds the shotgun. "...or you shoot me. Shoot me so that there won't be nothing left of my skull." 

Arthur’s face is solid. 

"You could get away with it. You know you can." 

Arthur seems to consider his options. While calm on the outside, a war of dilemmas drown him on the inside. 

He doesn't make a motion to use the shotgun and Micah lets go of the barrel. Placing his hand on Arthur's waist once more, Arthur lowers his head slightly by the thumb moving over him in circular motions. 

Micah moves his head back so they can see each other properly. "I'm not going back there, Arthur," he states calmly before pulling away completely from the other man. 

"You really would've snitched on _me?"_ Arthur asks, not sounding so convinced. 

" _Desperate_ men make _desperate_ decisions… You've might managed to stay under their radar your whole life but it can only work for so long-" 

"Fine." Arthur puts away the shotgun in its spot. 

"Fine _what?"_ Micah can't hold back the smile over his lips.

"You know what it means."

3\. old things 

Arthur sits on his porch, giving appreciated pets to Copper with one hand as the other hand holds a hat by his side. "You're the worst guard dog I've met," he tells the dog. "You just let that crazy fool barge in here and sleep in my bed." Of course, Copper did recognize the blonde man. Although Micah had never cared for animals, especially not dogs. 

Waiting for the blonde to change his appearance, Arthur ponders if his choice is the right one. Trying to tell himself he does it only for himself and no one else, he decides it's definitely an idiotic plan. 

Micah steps out of the shower, dripping water everywhere before he finds a used towel, briefly thinking that Arthur had used it against his own body. He shakes his head like a dog and his hair wets the walls of the bathroom. 

He sees Arthur sitting outside the open door with his back turned to his direction. He shifts slightly by the sound of Micah moving around. 

"I suppose you don't got any clothes I can borrow?" 

Arthur glances at him over his shoulder. "On the bed." 

Micah heads for the bedroom and on the bed lies a full set of clothes, including some old worn out boots he remembered on Arthur a long time ago. 

He clicks his tongue a couple of times as he looks the rest of the clothes over. Jeans, a white t-shirt and a red and black patterned shirt and a simple leather belt with a big buckle. He raises an approving brow. 

Arthur stares at him almost sceptical as Micah steps outside on the porch to join him. Without asking, he reaches down for the pack of cigarettes lying next to a sitting Arthur, convinced he has earned one by now. 

"I thought they might be a tight fit," Arthur comments and cocks his head at Micah’s body, referring to the clothes. 

The blonde holds back a dirty smile. "Well you know what I say about a tight fit," Micah comments back while lighting the cigarette, inhaling deeply the first drag. "Better than the loose ones." 

Arthur stares blankly in front of him, shaking his head by the joke.

A deep and selfish chuckle leaves Micah, founding himself funny, which is enough for him if only he does. 

Micah tilts his head. "Is that another way of telling me I've lost weight, hm?" 

Arthur looks again at how well his own clothes fit on the older man's body. "Might be. You used to be a fat fuck." 

Micah laughs genuinely at that one, drifting his eyes over the small homestead he had only been at one time before. His smile eventually fades out. "You're still with-" 

Arthur lifts his knees slightly to rest his elbows on. "This her house. Or used to be." 

"But your woman ain't _here._ " 

"No… she _ain't_. And she was never my woman, Micah."

"Was it… because of _me?"_ Micah teases. "Or couldn't she handle the mean old Arthur Morgan?" 

Arthur snorts. "Don't think so highly of yourself, Micah. And you know, I don't want to talk about her. She's got nothing to do with you and you got nothing to do with her." 

Micah looks down as Copper suddenly sits himself almost at the man's feet, his back pressing towards Micah’s legs. 

"Scoot, you mongrel," Micah orders and nudges the dog away from him with a boot to his backside. 

Arthur watches them with furrowed brows. "Copper's always liked you. And I never could see why." 

"Animals are drawn to me. Makes me a good hunter."

"And now you're the one hunted," Arthur smiles brilliantly with a glowing cigarette between his lips. 

"That reminds me. Maybe we should get this _show_ on the road." 

"Yes please. The sooner you're out of my life, the better." Arthur heaves himself up with a grunt, bringing the hat in one hand. 

Micah sees it now and squints his eyes in disbelief. "Is that my hat?" 

"I don't know. _Is_ it?" Arthur tosses the white hat to him before he heads down the steps towards the car. 

Micah catches it and looks it over, slowly brushing his fingers over it. "You was always full of surprises, Morgan." He brushes his hair behind his ears and solemnly places the hat on his head as if he wanted to savor the feeling. 

Arthur opens the car door to his white pickup. "No… That was _your_ expertise."

Micah chuckles lowly to himself as he follows him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be 3 chapters, it might be 5, I think 4 for now. Also, this is my first Morbell fic, or I prefer to call the shipping Cowbell (cowpoke and bell), cause we simply gotta have more of it https://youtu.be/Qa9Zg6yGlQ4
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading. Comments are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a few tags. I might do so again.

4\. the journey begins

"We gotta keep off the main roads," Micah tells as they drive over the bridge crossing Roanoke River. "If we cut through… here…" He shows his planned route on the map to a driving Arthur. "We might make it to Cumberland before nightfall. We stick to cheap motels, avoiding the cities-" 

"You talk like I don't know what I'm doing. I know these roads better than you ever will. This is my pickup and I decide which way to go."

Micah folds the map calmly before he opens the glove compartment and puts it back, all while staring at Arthur. He leans back in his seat and moves the sunglasses further up over his nose. He finishes with the classic crossing of his arms. 

Arthur side eyes him and the purposeful gestures he make. "You don't got a say in this. I'm the one who's risking my life here. I'm the one helping _you_ out, not the other way rou-" 

"Yes!" Micah agrees loudly, slapping a hand to his knee. "Yes, yes, yes… Yes, siiiiir," he smiles at Arthur. 

Arthur shakes his head, looking in the rear view mirror to make sure no one was following them. 

Micah seems to have a hard time sitting still, jumping between clenching his fists and drumming with his fingers for the next twenty minutes in silence.

"How _is_ your brother?" he eventually asks. 

"You don't talk about him." 

"Good. He always hated my guts anyways." 

"Why bring him up then?" 

"I was just trying to be _polite_ , Arthur."

They sit quietly for another thirty minutes, give or take. 

Arthur gives short glances at him. "If you'd been smart, you would've gotten a _clean_ shave. Cut that hideous hair of yours too." 

"I _have_ cut the hair, Arthur," the blonde informs seriously. 

Arthur jerks his head to take another look. "Really?" His sceptic eyes drift over the blonde locks. He then reaches with his hand to pull at one of them. " 'Cause this was just as long as before you-" 

"Eyes on the _road_ , cowpoke," Micah orders and swats Arthur's hand away. 

Arthur obeys and returns his free hand to the steering wheel as well. "All I'm saying is… for a man not wanting to get _caught,_ you don't do a very good job of preventing it. Right now, you're probably the spitting image of your own mug shot." 

Micah sits more upright and brings down the sun visor and looks at himself in the mirror. He drags his fingers over his thick mustache. "I ain't shaving this off." It's his ultimate decision and having shaved off the beard already, he believes it to be enough. 

Arthur keeps his eyes on the road but his gaze drifts back to Micah more than a few times, as if something bothers him. 

Micah pretends like he doesn't notices it. 

Arthur gestures at the glove compartment. "There might be one of those hair thingies in there. It's the least you can do." 

"A hair _thingie_ _?"_

"...yeah. That thing women use in their hair."

"A hair tie." 

Arthur grunts agreeing. 

Micah rolls his eyes but takes Arthur's advice. After finding it, he holds it in front of his face and examines it. He furrows his brows as he sees a single dark strand of hair still on it. He pulls it away with a disgusted grimace. 

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Arthur questions angrily as Micah smells at the hair tie. 

"This is Charlie's, alright. If it's anything I'm good at, it's recognizing _smells_ ," Micah says as he takes off his hat to tie his hair up. 

"Didn't I say that I don't want no talking about Charlie either??"

"And why is that? You don't think I've got the right to ask?" 

"I don't need to explain myself to you." 

"Maybe _I_ want to talk about it. You ever thought about that, huh, Arthur?" 

"What the hell are you trying to say?" Arthur raises his voice enough to reflect his feelings. 

"No of course you don't want to. You was always too busy wanting a new life and you thought you could find it with that… bitch." 

Arthur steers them to the side of the lonely road and stomps on the break in an instance, causing the both of them to jerk forwards with the seatbelts protecting them from a certain blow. Micah starts laughing at the reaction he finds overdramatic. 

Arthur rotates his torso to look directly at the other. "What did you just say?" he asks lowly with a warning glare. 

Micah struggles with keeping serious. "I said she was a goddamn _bitch_ ," he explains. 

With a fist that hadn't lost its force over the years, Arthur punches the other straight at his nose. 

Micah instantly covers a hand over himself. Blood gushes out immediately and he pinches with two fingers to stop it. "Oh-ho… you goddamn idiot," he snarls under his heavy breaths. "You've ruined your own shirt."

"What did you call Charlotte?" Arthur asks again. "Say it again." He nods with encouragement. "Go ahead. Say it." 

Micah seems almost impressed by the other's threatening demeanor. Knowing all along that the savage part of him would always exist. "I called her a _nice_ lady." 

"Yeah. That, she is." Arthur agrees, looking content by the blonde's answer. He starts the engine again and looks in the left side mirror to prepare to drive again. "You don't know the first thing of what she's been through. Calling her that one more time and I won't stop with one punch." 

Micah nods hastily to the warning, too busy with stopping the bleeding. "You don't happen to have a handkerchief, do you?" 

"No," is Arthur's short answer. Then they take off. 

  
5\. cumberland gas station 

It's almost midnight by the time they reach Cumberland. Noticing he needed to fill up the car, Arthur stops by a lonesome gas station. 

Arthur leans himself down to speak through the opened car window. "You stay right there," he orders. 

Micah looks all around the place. "There's no one here."

"It don't matter. Your ass stays inside the car," he repeats. 

"Okay, _daddy_ ," Micah answers with a glint in his eye. 

Arthur bangs the car lightly two times before he heads inside the 24/7 convenience store to pay for the gas. 

Micah sighs. From his spot, he can see Arthur standing by the counter inside, nodding at something behind the clerk. A polite smile on his lips too. 

Then he sees the clerk carry the wired telephone to Arthur. 

"Oh fuck no," Micah says as Arthur starts dialing. Without thinking about it, Micah nonchalantly opens the car door and heads out, not even closing it properly. He couldn't remember he had promised Arthur anything. 

With a lowered head, Micah opens the glass door, causing a hanging bell to noise his entry. 

Both Arthur and the clerk look over at him. The first of them instantly lowers his gaze, concealing his sudden surprise and fury with the blonde for not listening. 

"Evening," Micah comments and tips his hat to the clerk. 

"Evening," the middle-aged clerk answers, not putting much focus on the blonde, as if a bloodied cowboy walking in is the least odd thing he'd seen that night. 

Micah still has his sunglasses on in the white, almost green brightness of the strip lights. Through them, he searches between shelves, letting his hand brush over the wares standing neatly stacked, as he spies on Arthur. 

Arthur glances over his shoulder as he holds the telephone to his ear, wondering what the hell the blonde was doing. When no one picks up on the other end, he puts the handset down in its spot. 

"No luck, huh?" 

"Not tonight. But thanks for letting me borrow it." Arthur slides the telephone back to the clerk. 

"Anything else, mister?" the clerk asks Arthur. 

Arthur looks at his purchases that was only the prize of the gas and a pack of smokes. "Uhm. No. No, I think I'm good." He brings up his wallet and hands the bills to the man. 

Relaxing by Arthur not calling the police at least, Micah brings down his sunglasses slightly as he ends up at the porno magazines. Next to them hangs several packets of condoms. "Strawberry," he comments. 

"Here's your receipt," the clerk says before returning to the book he had been standing and reading to kill time. 

"Thank you." 

Arthur clears his throat, making Micah look up and over the shelf. The first cocks his head meaningfully towards the door. 

Micah nods as if he's the one giving Arthur permission to leave. 

Arthur bites down on his teeth and grabs the cigarettes and decides to leave, hoping Micah wouldn't do anything stupid. 

Just as he puts his hand on the door handle to push open, he sees a police car parked at the gas pump next to his pickup. 

Arthur clears his throat even louder this time. 

Micah, who is focused reading on something important, almost curses inside as he's interrupted. "Wh-"

Arthur pushes the door open with his back, and gestures wildly but briefly with a hand for him to get 'his ass out of there.' 

Micah subtly backs to the furthermost corner of the store and pulls the hat down lower on his head as he sees the officer stepping out of the car to start filling up his tank. 

Arthur goes outside, acting normal as he puts the receipt and the cigarettes in his pocket. 

"Evening, officer," he greets as he passes him. 

The officer gives a polite tip of his hat but doesn't say anything. 

"Are you gonna buy anything, mister?" the clerk suddenly hollers to Micah, who pretends to look at the souvenirs. Mugs, keyrings and other nonsense. There's even some clothing items. 

"Uhm. Yes." Micah looks around quickly and grabs a shirt hanging closest to him before he hurries to the register. Keeping an eye on the officer outside, he tosses it up on the counter. "Yes, I'll take this one." 

"They say those are in style now. Looks like you needed a new one, anyways," the clerk comments, tired eyes looking at Micah’s bloody shirt from under his cap. 

Micah chuckles. "Yes. I suffer from nosebleed. Bad ones too. God knows how many bloodied down shirts I've got at home by now," he jokes. 

"Maybe you should try using tissues next time, yes?" the man advices seriously. 

Micah furrows his brows. "Yes… yes. I will make sure to do that," he says and tosses a pack of those as well to his purchase. He glances at the police and he sees that Arthur is speaking with him by now, keeping him busy.

"You don't happen to have a bathroom here, do you?" 

"It's out of function so I locked it." The clerk shrugs a shoulder. "Sorry."

"Mm. I figured as much." Micah hurries to pay the man and with a nod, he walks over to the door. Opening it carefully to not make any sound, he takes a deep breath as he makes his way to the car. 

With the officer standing with his back turned to the store, Arthur watches past the officer and gets brief eye contact with the sneaking blonde only to drift them back at the other. 

"...so you work all night long?" Arthur asks with a tilted head and gives a small smile. "Must be lonely, driving all the way 'round Cumberland to keep the citizens safe." 

"Yeah well, someone's gotta keep watch, right? And I don't know if you heard about that crazy man on the loose." 

"No, officer, I hadn't," Arthur answers with a worried look. 

"Some inmate escaped from Sisika Penitentiary last night, shooting the place up. Over a dozen men were killed." 

"Oh that's awful…" Arthur says with worried brows. "And they don't got any clue to where he might be?" 

"No… they're still looking for him. He is believed to have fled north, to New Hanover, but they haven't found him yet." 

"That's a shame." 

"Yeah… if you should see someone particularily suspicious on the roads, hitchhiker or what may you, make sure to call the police so we can check it out." 

"I'll do that, officer."

"Yep. Anyways, a good night to you." The officer tips his hat once more before he turns around to head for the store. 

Arthur looks after him until he's entered the building. Pulling the door to an open and sitting himself tensely inside the car, he doesn't wait with turning the keys around. 

Micah sits very sunk down in his seat to hide his head and only when they're back on the road, does he lift his head up and closes his door properly. 

"Who were you calling?" Micah has the stomach to ask. 

"One more word from you and I'll whoop your ass, Micah." Arthur's voice almost trembles. 

Arthur holds back, Micah can tell. Holds back everything he wants to scream and scold him for. He had always been like that before he eventually exploded. Good thing Micah had bought some tissues. 

6\. stripped

Sleeping with a too small blanket over them, Micah gives up with trying to get some of it during the night. 

Lying on the truck bed floor, it's the bright sun that eventually stirs them awake. Micah sits himself up while Arthur continues to lie down with his hat covering most of his face. 

Micah moves to sit on the edge of the truck bed with his feet touching the ground. Having found a spot by a secluded lake in the middle of Cumberland's great forest, they had decided it to be better than the town's motels for now. 

Arthur watches the man's back with hidden eyes, preferring the still silence in the morning air. 

Before he knows it, Micah shoots up on his feet and starts to undress while walking down to the lake, leaving his clothes scattered around to create a trail of their own. 

Arthur sits up and scoots over to where Micah had been sitting, lifting a cigarette to his mouth as he observes the other man jump into the water without hesitation. 

Micah floats on his back, displaying his naked body for the world to see albeit no person in the world was there except for Arthur. 

Micah keeps his eyes closed the whole time, not intending on keeping an eye on the other man to see if he was watching or not. He didn't care in that moment. 

Arthur looks down at his boots as he crushes the finished smoke. He stands up and slams back the lowered tailgate to the truck bed. He walks to sit himself in the driver's seat but as he gets to the door, it's like he can feel Micah’s stare into his neck. 

Arthur gently lifts off his hat and places it at the roof of the car. Without thinking too much, he strips himself down to be as naked as the day he was born. 

Seeing Micah’s appreciating and glistening eyes, Arthur doesn't comment on it as he joins the blonde in the cool water. 

  
7\. the last job and the death of Skinny and Maddy 

With reserved state of minds, Arthur and Micah continues their drive with wet hair dripping water down on their otherwise dry clothes. 

Both contemplate the past without sharing their thoughts about it at first. 

"I didn't know they sold shirts like those so close to home," Arthur drawls. 

Being allowed to drive the pickup, Micah glances down at the recently purchased Hawaii shirt on his body. "It seems like it's in style now." 

"Dutch would've loved one of those." 

"Is he _still_ in Tahiti?"

"Yeah… like the rest of us, he and Hosea 'retired' - _permanently_ \- after that last robbery. I don't think he ever recovered from shooting that woman."

Arthur thinks back on the failed job. 

"Three million dollars, we could've had."

Micah’s eyes flicker slightly by the memory. 

"Dutch and Hosea still think it was you who stole them," Arthur informs. 

"Yes, I _know_. And so do you, it seems."

Arthur squints his eyes. "Well _did_ you… take the money?" 

"Tss…" Micah smiles. "Dutch always did ask us to keep faith in him but when I asked of it, none was given to me. Nor trust. 'Specially not from you-"

"Alright. Then how about we go through this again."

"No, Arthur. Not again."

"Yes. _Again_ ," Arthur insists. "Because I wasn't there and so you need to fill me in on the blanks!" 

Micah sighs heavily and tightens his grip around the steering wheel by Arthur's short temper. "I've already told you a thousand ti-" 

"THE lot of you had two suitcases filled with money. Money that _you_ was supposed to keep an eye on in our hideout, then-"

" _Theeeen,_ the fuckers tracked us down. We were sloppy with the car swaps," Micah explains. "Me, Mac, Davey and Jenny took the last car and drove up to our rendezvous point. Waiting for the others, we were met by the cops _instead_ \- we'd barely gotten inside the gate to the compound. Jenny and Davey were shot because they were stupid. Stupid to not run when I told them to. And Mac - oh they got him alright, and they got him good." 

"And what did you do?" 

"Is this necessary? We've talked about this. Fought over this and-" 

"It _is_ necessary. I haven't heard your story in six years so I need a quick reminder." Arthur observes the other closely, looking for any sign of Micah lying to him. So far, it was impossible to tell, just like in the past. "So. What did _you_ do? When the cops arrived?" 

"I took the money and drove down the fence as soon as I saw them coming. Jenny and the Callanders thought they could take them on but I knew we were done for. It all happened… Very fast… " Micah looks at the side mirror as another vehicle speeds up and passes him aggressively on the road. "With our rendezvous point gone, I had to shake them loose. But with your old man Dutch’s rule of not leading them to one of our places, I had to come up with a plan B." 

Arthur’s eyes drifts slowly left to right, remembering. "Skinny." 

"Skinny." Micah speaks as in sighs. "I thought I could trust him. We'd known each other for… _quite_ some time, you know… but he wasn't even home and neither was that woman of his - Maddy. But I hide the suitcases there anyways while I get rid of the car and change clothes. I stopped by a payphone to let the others know where I was at. When I get back a couple of hours later, there's still no Skinny and still no Maddy."

"And no money," Arthur adds quietly, thinking about Micah’s claims. 

"And _no_ money," Micah confirms, giving a serious glance at Arthur. He believes he has Arthur's trust for a moment. That is, until the younger man opens his mouth again. 

"Fast-forward a couple of weeks - Skinny and Maddy are found dead; killed in cold blood at some scabby ass motel two hundred and fifty miles away from their home." 

"And Micah Bell gets sentenced to thirty-four years," Micah speaks with a cheerful tone. 

"But _still_ no money!" Arthur laughs out with sarcasm. "How awfully strange."

"That's because I think someone else in our old crew found Skinny and Maddy _first_. And you know I said someone had stolen my pistols - the ones that were passed onto me from my old man. I think someone took them and made it look like _I_ did it. Tipped them off about me, saying they saw me running in the dark from there. It can't be a coincidence I found my guns same evening they arrested me."

"You never said that to me." 

"How could I? I was put behind bars before I had the fucking chance." 

Arthur is bewildered from the mysterious but unbelievable events. He is also filled with guilt and doubt at the same time. Guilt, because he _should_ believe Micah. Doubt, because he _couldn't_. 

"And who exactly do you think found the money and killed the pair?" Arthur doesn't sound convinced. "Charles? Javier? Hm? You think they would've taken it for themselves without anyone in the crew knowing about it?" 

Micah is quiet at first, as if he's holding something back. " _Whoever_ it was, I doubt we'll ever find out what went down. The point _is_ I tried to tell you of the money a thousands times. That I _didn't_ take them. I even visited you in that homestead you was meaning to buy from that… _woman_." Micah gives a brilliant smile, not intending to call her a bitch this time. 

Arthur finds himself looking down at his lap but still with a head held high.

"I wanted to shoot her in her fucking throat and watch her bleed out on the floor when I saw her kissing you. I realised why believing me wasn't so important anymore. You had your eyes elsewhere."

"I never laid a hand on her…" Arthur slowly explains. "She was the one to-" 

"Of course."

Arthur feels anxious with the disbelief in Micah’s voice. 

"You wanted to start a new life, cowpoke. Ain't nothing wrong with that," Micah explains without emotion.

"I was gonna buy that land for _myself_ , Micah. She just happened to own it first. She needed help with a few things before she moved back to Illinois 'cause she didn't have anyone since her husband passed. I've said this already." 

"You were _very_ eager about helping her out. You avoided me for weeks it seemed." 

"What the hell else could I do? With Dutch shooting that woman and the disaster of a job, he and Hosea decided it was best for us _all_ to lie low on the jobs for a while. It was a mess and I couldn't let it get to me. So I slept in the spare bedroom and helped her out for a couple of weeks to get my mind off of things. We ended up as friends. Still are. You just happened to come by at the wrong time of the day, friend."

This makes Micah stare at Arthur from the corner of his eye, dividing his attention between the road and the man. 

"I didn't know what to believe about you. _Everyone_ doubted you. Blamed you for the money getting lost or claimed you had taken it yourself to hide somewhere. I didn't know what to think. So yeah. Maybe I decided to start a new life."

"Without your buddy."

"Without you," Arthur agrees. When you was found guilty, I was convinced you had been lying all along...that I should've listened to the others from the start. Shit. I wanted to believe you Micah, I really did." 

"You know. You spent the night with me the day before I got arrested." Micah remembers how he had driven back to his place after visiting Arthur on his new property after weeks of not talking. Convinced of Arthur having a fling with that woman. Arthur knocking at his door several hours later. Them fighting and beating each other up before ending up in bed all night long without any talking. Arthur leaving without a word in the morning. "You think I would've found the _time_ to drive through three states to _shoot_ them, _hide_ the _money_ , and then drive back to _my_ place just to await the cops to take me away? Hm?" 

Arthur doesn't know what to say. All the facts are mere sayings. 

"Yeah… just keep quiet. Like you always do when you know I'm right." 

"Will you shut the _fuck_ up??" Arthur growls out to the other who doesn't even laugh this time. 

Micah eventually decides to switch on the radio, turning the volume up enough to drown the loud silence. 

_"...We never talk_

_We never fiiind the ti-iiime_

_To be close again_

_There it goes again…_

_Communication breakdoooown_

_Communication breakdown…"_

  
  


Both men sigh deeply with discomfort as the lyrics sung by Orbison's bittersweet voice become their cliché background music. Arthur looks out through the side window, absently taking in the mighty view of the mountains of the Grizzlies for a few long moments. 

_"...Too much too soon_

_Too much temptation_

_In a hurry_

_It's a saaad situation_

_Too much worryyyy_

_I can teeee-eee-eeell_

_That it's over now_

_Communication breakdooown…_

_Communic-"_

Micah huffs eventually as if he's insulted, listening far longer than he would expect of himself. "The hell with this." 

Arthur abruptly tunes the frequency to the next radio station, just as the blonde is about to do the same - causing their fingers to awkwardly bump into each other. 

"That's more like it." Arthur gives an approving raised brow to the song. 

_"...Loaded up and truckin'_

_Oh, we gonna do what they say can't be done_

_We've got a long way to go_

_and a short time to get there_

_I'm east bound, just watch ol' Bandit run_

_Keep your foot hard on the pedal,_

_son, never mind them brakes…"_

  
  


Arthur unknowingly taps his boot in the lively pace of the more cheerful song, singing along in his head as he stubbornly looks away from the blonde.

In the end, Micah isn't able to ignore the other’s previous statements. "So. You never fucked her?" he asks with a slightly raised voice while staring blankly on the road. 

"No, I never fucking fucked her," Arthur answers, before he adds his realisation. "It seems like I ain't the only one having his doubts here."

Micah grunts disliking to the spot-on comment. "How come you know where's she's got her… her hair thingies, then?" he questions. 

"This her car. She sold it to me along with the house. Six years is enough time to know what's inside it," Arthur explains simply. 

A reticent Micah rests his elbow next to the window by his side, in turn resting his head against the palm of his hand while he drives one-handed. Maybe he'd been too jealous to see the truth, let alone given them a chance to communicate. The circumstances had been what they were, after all. Too much shit going on. 

"I reckon… we'll never know what's true and what's not." Arthur points out almost tiredly. " 'specially not when neither of us would ever admit we was lying." 

Micah raises a brow. "What are you saying, cowpoke...? That we oughta believe what we want to believe?" 

Arthur turns his head fully to see the blonde by his side, a relaxed expression on his face. "Something like that," he says lowly. 

When Micah feels a warm hand plant itself over his knee to give a quick squeeze, he isn't able to hold back a self-satisfied smile, instantly reminded of past touches and fantasizing about future ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shot, my ass... I said to myself this would be short but I'm currently at 25k+ words trying desperately to wrap things up. Hope you liked this chapter. Don't be shy to leave a comment, I enjoy them immensely.


	3. Chapter 3

8\. old appetites

"We gotta eat something." Micah keeps his eyes alert as they enter the state of West Elizabeth. 

Arthur stirs awake from his light sleeping, needing to rest before they switched seats. "Wh-what?" he drawls with half-lidded eyes. 

"We need to eat something." 

Arthur merely grunts. 

With both their stomachs growling after a while, Arthur can't exactly deny that the blonde is right. He thinks about the boar he had successfully hunted three days prior, regretful it _might_ have gone to waste by now because of Micah and this casual trip. 

Passing through a town, he looks all around it. Seeing the many folks moving about on the alive streets, he shakes his head before he even opens his mouth. "Hungry or not. We ain't stopping _here_. There might be some diner on the road to Monto's Rest we can make a quick stop at." Or at least he had a vague memory of it. 

"We've crossed three states in three days, Arthur… We're way ahead of them. You heard so yourself on the radio - the idiots are still searching for me up in New Hanover." The blonde chuckles frantically over that. "I think we can relax some." 

"No that's exactly what we _won't_ do! Definitely not here anyways!" Arthur barks and sits himself upright. "Your ugly ass face is probably known all the way from Lemoyne to Gaptooth Ridge by now…! And if I recall correctly - _you_ was the one to show up at _my_ door and tell me you could _not_ get caught."

"Bedroom." 

"What?" 

"I showed up in your bedroom. Not at your door." 

Arthur breathes out very slowly. "My point is… news spread, and they spread _fast_."

Micah doesn't seem to listen. Instead, he slows down, a fast food restaurant to the left catching his attention. 

"The hell you're doing?" Arthur questions when Micah turns left and leaves the main street. "Turn around right about now."

"Calm down, woman - I'm taking the drive-thru," Micah explains. "I haven't had a burger since the last fucking decade." 

Arthur can't believe him. 

Micah rounds the building and slows down to a stop as there are a few vehicles before him in line. 

_"...thirty-nine year old Micah Bell, one of the inmates responsible for the 'slaughter at Sisika', still remains a runaway. The police continue their search, today extending it to west of New Hanover and south to West Elizabeth. Police chief Carp Jackson, has stated that if Micah Bell has managed to reach that far - he might have someone helping him or perhaps hiding him. Micah Bell was serving a thirty-four years sentence for the double homicide of a couple he had been familiar wi-"_

Micah gradually lowers the volume as Arthur stares unimpressed at the radio. 

"Way ahead of them, huh," Arthur comments. 

Micah rolls the pickup forth after another car gets their orders served. He doesn't look so troubled. Lowering his hat further down on his face and putting on the sunglasses, he forms his lips a couple of times before actually saying a word. "Okaaay. I'm _sorry,_ cowpoke. I might've uhm, _underestimated_ them," he apologizes without much remorse. 

Arthur huffs. 

Micah looks left to right and into the rear view mirror as they stand still in the slow moving line. Seeing through the big windows into the fast food joint from their seats in the pickup, he decides that the people inside couldn't see what he had in mind. 

A determined hand rests over Arthur's thigh.

" _What_ are you doing?" 

Micah gives half a smile as he starts massaging, rubbing over and further between Arthur's legs. The man grabs him and pushes his hand away forcefully. 

"Are you crazy, someone might see-" 

The blonde's seeking hand immediately returns to its destination, continuing his slow but purposeful touches. "Ain't _noooobody's_ watching," Micah waves off calmly as he keeps an eye on any possible witnesses. He turns his head to look directly at Arthur. "Consider this an apology for my foolhardy nature."

Arthur bites down hard as the blonde without warning moves up and rubs over his member outside his jeans. Being paranoid about someone seeing what Micah was doing inside the car, Arthur finds it hard to relax against the sudden sensation. 

"Or more like… A little taste of what I can do with ya when we get out of this town," Micah purs as he feels Arthur slowly grow under his touch. 

Arthur takes off his hat and cover it over his groin as if it made them both less sinful. 

Micah keeps his guard up to any prying eyes, getting eye contact for a second with a woman inside the restaurant in the middle of taking a bite of her food. She looks away without knowing what the stranger she sees is up to.

Arthur keeps a neutral face the whole time as Micah works him hard and swollen. He can feel his cock jerk awake with the blood flowing into it with each touch. Although it's uncomfortable having it enclosed in the tightness of his jeans, he is left with an incomplete sensation when Micah retreats his hand from him to drive up and finally order. 

Arthur sits speechless the whole time Micah speaks with the unknowing girl in the counter - deciding Arthur's food for him, even when they eventually get their orders from stressed workers and Micah replaces the hat in Arthur's lap with a bag of food. 

"See? Worked like a charm," Micah comments smugly as he hits the road again, passing the rest of the town with no suspicious eyes looking their way. "You worry too much, Arthur."

The blonde almost moans as he eats the hamburger one-handed while still being the one driving, relishing in the luxury of the trash food. Arthur on the other hand, had lost his appetite only to find one of an old kind. 

9\. fuck 

"We should find a motel," Arthur suggests as the sun starts to set.

Micah looks at the sign they pass, informing them of a nature trail close by. 

Arthur checks the map. "Looks like it's another hour's drive before we get to any town."

"Fuck an hour," Micah says and changes their route to follow the directions to the nature trail. 

"I need a goddamn proper bed to sleep in," Arthur tells the other as he realises they might be sleeping on the truck bed floor again. 

"I don't remember you being so picky about things like that, Morgan." 

"Well. I ain't getting any younger," he admits, feeling somewhat sore from the previous nights and the uncomfortable sleeping position. 

"Neither am I. So I don't feel like wasting time." 

They end up on a lonesome gravel road leading to a few parking spots in the middle of the woods. 

Having sit down for a few long hours, both men head outside the vehicle to stand and stretch their stiff bodies. 

"Owanjila trail," Micah reads on the sign with arrows pointing up towards the narrow trail one could continue on by foot. "Pfft. I say we sleep here for the night. Ain't no other car around." 

Giving an indifferent nod, a smoking Arthur stands himself in front of the pickup to take a look at a tree before him. He squints at the carvings some couple in love had made at least twenty years ago. Perhaps he's pretending to not pick up on the noticeable tension in the air between them. Feeling like it has to be relieved somehow but Arthur isn't willing to incite it. 

Micah isn't Arthur and so he moves soundlessly to lean himself against the hood of the pickup, half sitting on it. 

Sensing the blonde being behind him, observing him as he is pondering what names the letters M-T stands for, Arthur doesn't shy away from the grasp. 

Micah doesn't wait around. He grabs Arthur by his belt and pulls him backwards to himself. Arthur allows himself to be pulled into Micah’s embrace from behind as he takes another drag on his cigarette. "We're doing this _here,_ M? _Now?"_

Micah rests his chin at Arthur's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his neck. "Ain't nobody arooound…" Standing properly, the blonde uses his hands to release Arthur's belt and unzip his jeans. A man of his words when it comes to the apology he had promised him. 

Arthur relaxes as Micah slowly rubs him outside the jeans until his cock twitches awake. He just waits for the blonde to make a smart comment about how fast it goes. It never comes. Instead, Micah seeks his warm hand down and inside Arthur's pants. Micah doesn't have to look over the other's shoulder to know exactly where and how he would touch him, knowing his preferences by heart. Moving gently over the half hard cock, his confident hand is keen on turning it even harder. 

Arthur groans by the familiar touch and leans his head backwards to rest against Micah’s shoulder. Leaving the cigarette between his lips, his free hands support themselves on the hood behind them on each side of Micah. 

"You're wet already," Micah breathes into Arthur's ear as his thumb rubs over the tip of his cock to smear the precum out. 

Arthur starts to pump slowly into the experienced hand of his former lover and with the new slickness, it only adds to the sensation of wanting to fuck and be fucked at the same time. 

"It's been a long time," Arthur answers simply under his smoky breaths. "Brings up a lot of… memories." 

Micah steals the cigarette from his lips with his free hand and takes a drag of his own over Arthur's shoulder before tossing it away. Then he licks over the smooth skin on Arthur's neck, salty and with another taste that only belonged to him. The familiarity of it is enough for Micah’s growing cock to throb against Arthur's firm ass. 

"You've missed this?" 

"Yeah," Arthur admits. 

"You've missed… me?" Micah continues and starts to stroke Arthur's cock in a consistent pace. 

"I've missed… the fucking," is Arthur's trembling answer. 

Micah smiles fully with teeth against Arthur's skin before he bites into him, causing Arthur to pump more wantonly into him. 

With his other hand, Micah moves over Arthur's chest, rubbing over a nipple through the fabric and continuing up to his neck. Planting his palm over his throat, he squeezes slightly to make Arthur's breaths louder. 

"You've been with any other man?" Micah asks him as his hand slows down and starts cupping and massaging Arthur's testicles instead. 

Arthur turns his head slightly so that Micah’s lips press to his cheek. "No… That would've been stupid with all that shit going around." 

"Mm," Micah hums as he breathes into his skin. 

"And you?" Arthur moans, struggling with keeping his eyes open. "Lots of fellers in prison." 

"No," Micah exhales. "Not with all that shit going around." 

Arthur leans his head to him as Micah moves over his cock again. Feeling that Arthur is starting to tense up, he slows down only to move away from behind him. Pushing Arthur back against the hood, the younger steadies himself with both hands as Micah lowers himself to his knees in front of him. 

Now, Arthur _can't_ keep quiet. Releasing a groan from his closed lips, he is close to the edge as he feels Micah taking him in his mouth. Loving the wet sound that belongs to the sinful act, Arthur starts moving his hips forcefully only to feel Micah’s lips enclose and his throat swallow around him, creating a suction that makes his whole body spasm. Shooting his load into the other, he steadies himself with a fist clenched with blonde hair between his fingers. Micah swallows it all, licking the corner of his lips clean as Arthur pulls himself out. 

Getting up on his feet, Micah doesn't give Arthur any chance to recover from his orgasm before he pushes the other around. Shoving him forward, Arthur steadies himself with his palms against the hood. Feeling his feet getting kicked apart, Arthur closes his eyes at the sensation he fears and craves in equal measures. 

"You can't go in dry," Arthur drawls with heavy breaths, slightly irritated that he would have to tell him as much. 

" _Can't_ I?" Micah asks as in a challenge as he yanks down Arthur's pants. 

Arthur stares into his own faint reflection in the old coating of the pickup. He lowers his head as Micah spreads his cheeks and releases an appreciating sound by the tempting sight. Arthur sighs. "Go fucking easy on me, at least."

Micah laughs lowly. "You'd think I'd go easy on you...? I haven't had you in six years. Going easy is the last thing I'd do."

Arthur curses under his breath. That is, until he suddenly feels a warm and wet tongue against his opening. The tickling sensation from the obscenity is enough to make him forget about the inevitable pain he'd endure for the pleasure.

"Fuck, Micah, that's disgusting." Arthur jerks his head involuntary by the treatment he, on the other hand, _couldn't_ say no to. 

Micah’s mustache tickles against his sensitive wrinkled skin and he can feel his toes curl inside his boots as the other happily eats him out. 

The blonde makes him relax fully with his tongue and while relishing in the taste of the man again, he has to stop himself before the other relaxes _too_ much. 

Arthur looks back over his shoulder as Micah brings out a condom from his pocket. "Where the hell did you get that?" he asks with an accusatory tone. 

Micah holds back a smirk. "...Back in Cumberland." 

"That why you didn't stay in the car?? So you could buy… _that??_ " Arthur questions angrily with a loud voice. 

Micah shrugs a carefree shoulder. "It wasn't my intention when I walked in there but I thought they might come in handy. And just so you know - I didn't _pay_ for them, Arthur." 

"For crying out loud," Arthur answers, tired of the man. Then he realises how confident the other must've been about getting laid, not knowing if he should take it as an insult or be happy about it. "We've never used a rubber before," Arthur states instead of sharing the previous thought. 

Micah gives a few agreeing nods as he brings out his blood-filled cock to roll it on. "You said we'd never know what's true and what's not when none of us are willing to admit a lie."

Arthur furrows his brows. "You don't believe me?" he asks as Micah busies himself with holding Arthur's hips, kneading his skin with touches of appreciation. 

"It's just a safety precaution, cowpoke. I don't want no fag disease," Micah explains before spitting in his hand and slicking himself up. 

Arthur is firmly bent over and feels the pulsating tip of Micah’s length search between his cheeks and press against his pink and puckered hole, sensitive and slick from spit. Arthur doesn't have the time to adjust to the size of the other, so with gritted teeth, he takes what Micah offers. With a loss of breath, he shuts his eyes as Micah slowly forces past his ring of muscle. 

Micah can't help but look down as he pushes inside the space. He spreads Arthur's cheeks to get a better look at himself pumping steadily into the tight hole enclosing his aching cock. 

He groans as he bottoms, keeping there and rolling his hips as if he wanted to stir Arthur's insides around. Arthur all but falls over at the hood, his chest heaving against the metal as his prostate gets overstimulated. 

A sensation of being completely ripped apart is present at his entrance but is compensated with the hardness pressing at the most sensitive part inside him. 

Micah wildly moves back and forth with his hips, causing Arthur to bury his face into his arms by the force in which he does it. 

Struggling noises leave Arthur's stubbornly shut lips as he's being fucked violently against the hood of his own pickup. Moving up inch after inch with each pump, he struggles with keeping his feet steady on the graveled ground. 

"Shit. You're bleeding," Micah pants as he sees his cock coated in a mix of transparent and red fluids. 

"Oh yeah?" Arthur breathes out with a red face, grimacing in sheer discomfort, pain and otherworldly euphoria. 

"Oh yeah," Micah confirms and leans forward slightly to reach a hand to slide under Arthur's shirt and over his stomach. He moves downwards and feels under Arthur's belly button as he once more bottoms out and rubs his tip over his prostate. A breathy laugh leaves Micah as he feels his own hard length through Arthur's trembling body. Micah then guides his hands to Arthur's hips again, continuing with fucking himself into a climax. 

Arthur feels shaky from the treatment and his cock drips new precum over the hood, smearing it out with his groin and stomach as Micah sets a new bar with the pace. Arthur briefly has the time to think that they both were gonna die, fucking like they were in their twenties and not closer to their forties. 

"It's a shame… I've got the rubber on… Otherwise, I would've loved to… shoot my cum inside you…" Micah pants between each sentence as he is about to hit his orgasm. 

"Micah…" It sounds like Arthur's begging but has no clue of what.

Micah’s nails dig into Arthur's hips, almost piercing his skin. "...then I'd fuck you again." 

Arthur can feel the hard cock swell up slightly more inside of him as Micah squirts into the condom instead of inside him. Arthur moans so quietly that the other almost can't hear it. 

Micah breathes very heavily, the consequences of the exertion catching up with him by now. He stays inside Arthur for a few moments and for some reason, it makes Arthur shiver. 

Micah rubs his thumbs over Arthur's trembling hips and he can feel Arthur's hole pulsate around his softening length. "You good?"

"Yeah," Arthur answers and lifts his head as Micah pulls out. Arthur wipes the drool from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. Micah pulls him up, causing a loud grunt to leave Arthur as he tries to balance himself. Micah takes off the filthy rubber and throws it far off in the woods. With an eye on Arthur, he tucks himself inside his pants. 

Arthur reaches a hand behind him to the vehicle to keep his balance as Micah again lowers himself to his knees. With fresh cum dripping from Arthur's cock, Micah makes sure to lick him nice and clean once more. The sensation is almost too much but Arthur feels a wave of pleasure when Micah does it with a gentle mouth. "I never could get enough of your taste, Arthur. Nor your smells," Micah tells the standing man between his licks and kisses. 

"Is that so?" Arthur closes his eyes as Micah licks under his belly button to clean up the smeared out fluid.

"Yeah… Thought about you… A _lot,_ while I was in Sisika."

"Mm." Arthur digs his fingers into the blonde hair as Micah licks over his groin. "You've _thought_ about me? When you was…?"

"Yes."

Arthur is curious. "And?" 

"I imagined fucking you while you was sucking someone else's cock at the same time. Among other things." 

Arthur raises a brow by the detailed fantasy. "You'd really let someone do that with me?" 

"Oh I'd shoot him afterwards." 

"Tempting. But it ain't happening."

"I know."

Arthur holds Micah’s chin for a second, only to push his head away from his cock. He tucks himself in while Micah rises to his feet.

They both sigh as they look over at the hard truck bed floor.


	4. Chapter 4

10\. a good time

Staying obediently in the car, Micah watches Arthur using the payphone across the street from the store he'd just been to. 

With a somber-like look on his face, Arthur walks across the parking lot with no more than five cars parked during the early hours of the bright morning. He's got one arm busy holding a filled paper bag from the store to his chest. 

Micah looks at him with a tilted head as he opens his door and sits in the driver's seat. 

With Micah not actually saying anything, Arthur just knows the blonde _wants_ to. 

" _What?"_ Arthur asks with a hard voice. 

Micah jerks his head to look behind him, as if he was wondering if Arthur was speaking to him. "Nothing… just that… you've been trying to call the man, what, _two_ or _three_ times since Cumberland? Maybe, just _maybe,_ he's not interested in talking to you all that much." Micah points out about the calls that didn't draw any paranoia in him anymore after Arthur had told him who he was trying to reach. "You ever thought about that?" 

Arthur isn't affected by it in the slightest, staring somewhat humored at the other. "It's not like that," he drawls. "He's just busy." 

"Busy, oooonly for you." 

This makes Arthur snort. "Given you've been _away_ for _quite_ some time, I'm pretty sure you don't know the first thing about my life or the people in it, Micah."

"But I do know a lot." 

"Oh yeah?" Arthur grins fully all the way up to his sparkling blue eyes. 

Micah thinks about it for a second, always too confident in himself. "Yes. Ask me anything."

"Mmm okay. Answer me this… Do you _even_ know what I - I don't know - do for a living now?" Arthur asks only to try him out. "If you know so much about me, that is." 

Micah gestures with his hand as he mumbles out an answer. "Yeeeeah… you work in the, uh, _factory_ , right?" 

Arthur narrows his eyes at the other. 

Micah looks content by the silence he gets in return, certain he had chosen right out of the three or four guesses he had. What the hell else is there in the town of Annesburg? Which he supposed Arthur worked in, living so close and all. 

"Don't look so damn pleased, you guessed wrong," Arthur gloats. 

Micah doesn't let his own failure get to him. "Okaayyy. The _mine_ then."

"No, you idiot."

"How the _hell_ should I know, hm? You didn't exactly return any of the calls I left or letters I sent you," Micah retorts with a bitch face. 

Arthur stares at him like he couldn't believe the blonde just said that to him. He grinds his teeth, feeling a pang of guilt inside of him. 

Micah isn't someone afraid of conflicts but considering the day is early still, he didn't feel like fighting first thing since it would leave Arthur resentful the whole day. So he waves it off. _"Whatever_ , uhm, it is you doooo, what's your boss man has to say about you not showing up for work, anyhow?" he asks, his voice at level again. 

"I don't have work, Micah. _Fittingly_ enough, I've got my long-awaited vacation which I'm now happily spending on helping a convicted felon to get to Mexico," Arthur shoots out and shoves the bag with his purchases to Micah’s chest to make his own hands free. "You caught me on my _third_ fucking day. And I had shitload of things I needed to do around the house." Arthur feels stressed just thinking about it.

Micah can't help but feel a little flattered by Arthur sacrificing his precious time for him or perhaps for _himself_. Only time could tell. "Aaaw, I'm sorry cowpoke," he apologizes as Arthur puts on his seat belt. "But surely, you gotta agree that life's a little more exciting with me back in it." Micah rummages through the bag - a couple of big bottles of water and some bread. It almost reminds him of the breakfast in Sisika. "A little bit like the _old_ days. Just you and m-" 

Arthur smirks as Micah finds the petroleum jelly at the bottom. It would have to do since the place didn't sell any proper lube. "Well… I never said I _disagreed_." 

"Arthur Morgan, you dirty dog." Micah feels himself become hot only by knowing Arthur had planned on them fucking again. 

"Just 'a good time' right? Ain't that what we always used to say?" 

"The _best_ of times. That's what I fucking live for."

11\. affection - existing 

Arthur tenses as two police cars with their sirens on, passes them to drive in the opposite direction, answering an urgent call. 

Micah rotates his body to stare after them through the window in the rear. "Arthur?" 

"Yeah?" 

"When we get to Armadillo-" 

"I didn't say we'd make a stop in Armadillo." 

"I'll suck your cock," Micah offers with a sly grin. "Free of charge," he jokes. 

Arthur purses his lips to the generous offer. 

Micah turns more serious. " _When_ we make a stop in Armadillo-" 

"What the hell's in Armadillo?" Arthur looks at him from the corner of his suspicious eye.

"Nada, except for a proper bed. _Meaning_ I'd like to rent a _room_. We've slept under the bare fucking sky for almost a week now." 

Arthur considers the uncomplicated request, relaxing somewhat. "Alright. Deal." It isn't difficult for him to agree to the suggestion after all, needing it more than Micah did. "To both," he adds. "But only if you do what I say and don't draw any unnecessary attention to us. Preferably _none_." Sometimes, Arthur feels like he has to think for the other. 

"Of course." Micah looks and sounds content. "Then we can fuck all night long. I might even go easy on you." 

The corner of Arthur's lips curl up and again he side eyes the man sitting in the passenger seat. "Ain't no rest for the wicked, huh."

"Like I said - I've missed you," Micah tells plainly. "And six years is a looong time."

Arthur doesn't know if the man expects him to say the same. "Now, who said we'd share a room?" he points out instead. 

Micah pretends he doesn't notice Arthur dodging the small exchange of affection. "It's cheaper. Smarter."

"Riskier." 

"Might be." 

"The further south we drive, the more dangerous the towns." 

Micah loosens the hair tie creating his ponytail, giving his scalp a break from the straining sensation. 

"So renting _one_ room together, let alone fuck in it, is enough to draw an eye." 

"More than my face?" 

"Yeah. A whole lot more than your face, M. If it's anything those inbreds are good at, it's making sure faggots like us know we aren't welcome, by _any_ _means necessary._ So we should stick to keeping a low profile - with you, being a highly wanted man and all." Arthur says it with a sarcastic smile, feeling that Micah had seemed to forgotten the last fact during their trip. 

Micah seems entertained by his safety precautions. "Good thing I'm no fag then." 

"Nah, you'd just fuck anything if you could, Micah, ain't that right." 

" _Yeeeees,_ Arthur _._ 'Fag' is nowhere near of describing my breathtaking persona," the blonde explains through a sigh. 

Arthur holds back a smile he didn't want to grant the other. 

"So this means I'm sleeping alone tonight?" Micah gives a meaningful expression with theatrical sadness. 

"Yeah, I reckon it's for the best." 

It doesn't seem to bother the blonde particularly much. "O-ki-do-ki." Micah sinks down in the seat slightly before lowering the hat over his eyes. "Wake me when we get there."

  
  


11\. disappointed desperation

With a cigarette in mouth, Arthur listens to the air conditioner hum, surprised the room had a luxury of that kind. Lying on the bed in only his boxers, he wonders what the blonde might be up to in the room next to his. He can clearly hear the television through the thin wall. 

He reads on the jar of vaseline before tossing it away to crash abandoned on the nightstand. 

The both of them had some form of unspoken competition about who would knock at the other's door first, despite his own warning of not do something as stupid like that. It wouldn't be the first time. With past jobs demanding them to sleep in different states, they'd have sex more times than they could count when left alone. 

With several small bottles of booze from the minibar spread out on the sheets, Arthur decides to make use of them as he switches on the television. 

He zaps between the channels, furrowing his brows at how many adult movies are on already. With loud moans filling the room, he looks at the clock. Having passed 9pm, he opens the first bottle as no Micah knocks at his door.

Drinking two small bottles of liquor like cold lemonade on a hot summer day, he turns down the volume only to press his ear against the wall above the bed's headboard. 

>>>

Arthur listens to the air conditioner hum again while staring up at the ceiling. Absently stroking himself, thinking about Micah’s promise of a mouth fuck, he looks at the clock. An hour had passed and by then, he had downed five bottles. 

"The heeeell with thiiis." He shoots up on his feet and pulls on his white t-shirt and jeans but skips the belt. Walking out of the room with bare feet against the now cool asphalt outside, he walks the few steps to Micah’s door. Knocking with determination, he glances over his shoulders a couple of times to make sure no one is spying from the parking lot, where his pickup stands untouched. 

He can still hear the television sound inside the room. Arthur figures the man must've fallen asleep but he tries turning the doorknob either way. Feeling it turn to an open, he slinks inside. 

"Mi-" 

Arthur stands there like an idiot as the room is completely empty. The bed hadn't even been touched. He quickly shoots a look over his shoulder just to make sure he hadn't imagined it. The pickup is still there. 

Preparing to head out of there, he almost misses the note on the bed. 

_"You just couldn't help yourself,_

_could you, cowpoke. Don't worry,_

_I'm just visiting an old friend._

_Don't look for me._

_I'll be back before sunrise._

_-M"_

Arthur crumples the piece of paper together before running back to his room. Dressing properly, he heads for the parking lot. He instantly lowers himself to take a look under the car and reach a hand in there. 

"Oh you fucking _bastard_ ," he says, promising himself he would actually kill the blonde.

  
  


12\. kids

At 9:30 pm, Micah looks all around the desolate parking lot to the motel. He focuses on the open window to one of the motel rooms on ground level, three rooms from his. He sees no one moving in it. 

Being the one to park and lock the car while Arthur paid for the rooms, he is content with how quickly Arthur had put his trust into him with the keys or perhaps simply forgotten it. He always had a shitty memory. 

Micah takes off his hat and sinks himself down to the rear of the pickup. Lying on his back, he pushes with his feet to get under the car. 

He smiles broadly as he sees a sawed off shotgun, a makeshift rack wielded into the frame holding it in place. "Arthur. Arthur. You were always ingenious," he comments to the old trick the other man had made use of in their past. Tugging off the duct tape working as further safety precaution, he tucks the empty weapon under his belt and tapes the keys to the spot instead. 

With a few grunts, Micah drags himself out from under the car. As he stands up, he brushes the dirt off from his backside. Readjusting the weapon behind him, his gaze fixates once more at the open window to the motel room. Now sitting on the window sill, two Mexican kids, about eight respectively twelve of age, watch him with curious faces. Their gazes landing on the weapon he conceals. 

Micah puts on his hat and raises his chin slightly. Walking relaxed to their window, he makes sure no one else is looking their way. It isn't a risk, with everyone on the motel locking themselves inside to sin, bringing prostitutes and whatnot to make it a fun night. The small road is empty except for a few passing cars with drivers stuck in their own world. 

"Hiya, kiddos." 

They don't seem so wary of him. "...Hi." 

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" 

No answer. 

"Okaaaay… Where are your parents?" 

"...Daddy's asleep," the older kid answers shyly, jerking his head into the room they're in. 

Micah smiles to them, standing himself so that he could lean his head to glance inside the room and past the small slit between the curtains. He sees a man with a belt tied tight around his upper arm, passed out on the bed with his mouth agape. 

Micah pulls away, leaning himself casually against the aged facade next to the window. "And your mother?"

No answer. 

"Oh okay. I see." 

Micah pulls out two dollars from his pocket, handing one dollar to each kid. 

They hesitantly accept the bills.

"You know what this is, right?" Micah lifts his flowery shirt slightly to show the hidden weapon again. 

"Yes, sir," they both answer. 

"You know what it can do?" 

"Umm…it can kill you…?" the youngest more asks than answers. 

Micah rolls his eyes. "Well of coooourse it can _kill_ , but you know _hoooow_ it kills you?" 

The brothers look at each other, trying to seek the answer in the other's face. They shake their heads. 

"Standing like _this_." Micah points with his fingers at the distance between them. "It'll make your head explode to tiny, little, _pieces."_ He gestures with his hands what is supposed to look like a small explosion around his head, adding a quiet and gory sound effect. "It would take _weeks_ to get all that blood and bones off from the curtains." He waves a finger for emphasis at them and the curtains. "Mm-hm. _Mess-yyy_." 

Worry manifests itself in the boys' round and dark eyes as the stranger man taps his fingers over the shotgun tucked away under his belt. 

Micah pulls at his shirt to cover it properly again. "Be good boys and don't say anything about me or about what you saw. Can you do that for me, hm?" 

The kids nod so quickly Micah worries their heads might fall off. 

Micah gives an accepting nod. "Now. Does any of you little rascals know where the gunshop is?" 

The older kid points south. "That direction." 

With the motel being in the outskirts of the town, a pleased Micah blinks an eye to the kids before leaving. 

  
  


13\. Jeb the gunsmith 

The blonde can read the man's kind like an open book and he's never been afraid of taking a risk to achieve a higher reward. "You don't happen to know where 'Big' Joe's at?" Micah tries when they're alone in the soon to close gunshop. He stares at the dog tag hanging around the clerk's neck. MURPHY, JEBEDIAH, it says. 

The man, a vicious looking tattooed man with glasses and a fierce black mustache, places the asked-for box of shells in front of Micah. "Who's asking?" 

Micah brushes his fingers over his own impressive mustache. "A _friend_ of his. With the initials M.B. You might've heard of me," he smiles and lifts off his hat. He looks directly at the other so he could see his full face. 

This makes Jeb shoot up his eyes to examine him. He tilts his head slowly. "Huh. I thought you looked familiar. You're the one that shot up that prison, ain't you?" He almost sounds impressed. 

Micah merely raises a brow, not confirming or denying it. 

"Shiiit. Your name is all over the news, man." 

Micah puts the hat back on his head. "So I've heard. But that's not gonna be a problem. Is it?" 

Jeb isn't unfamiliar with reading men and situations either, having his fair share of criminal background. "Ain't gonna be a problem for _me."_ Jeb cocks his head to him. "What's your beef with Big Joe?" 

"Ain't no 'beef'. He uh, _owes_ me for a _favor_ I did him a long while back. I just want to have a word with him." 

"Just a word?" 

"Yeah."

Jeb considers it. 

Micah fishes up the cash for the shells and places them on the counter. Jeb watches them for a while. 

Micah gazes from under the brim of his hat as Jeb places his fingers over the bills and slides them back to him. "Well _I've_ got a beef with Joe. You take _these."_ He slides the box of shells over to Micah as well. "and you go look for him at the titty bar."

Without breaking eye contact, Micah brings up the shotgun on the counter. He lifts the box of ammo upside down to pour them out and proceeds with filling the weapon. 

Grabbing the bills on the counter, he puts them away in his pocket. "If an angry looking type with dirty blonde hair asks for me, make sure to tell him to get back where he came from and wait for me there." 

"Sure." 

Giving a last nod, Micah backs slowly away from him to the door. He stops. "By mere curiosity, what exactly _did_ Joe do to you?" 

Jeb crosses his arms. "Bastard slept with my wife. She the best stripper in all of Armadillo." 

"Ah. That old classic." Pushing the door open with his back, a chuckling Micah heads for the strip club. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not much for over-explaining this uncomplicated plot while I write, meaning it might get confusing at times. Everything will make sense in the end though - promise. I've also _tried_ to keep their feelings to a minimum so Arthur and Micah's true thoughts and intentions are sometimes expressed only through their dialogues and actions. I thought it fitted best for this fic in order to give a sense of doubt towards both of them and what they're really after. Thanks again for reading, I do hope you all enjoyed this update! 
> 
> /M


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a pretty long chapter for ya. Enjoy.

14\. Joe's strip club 

Keeping his hat low on his head and sitting by the bar next to some other cowboys, Micah sees Joe before Joe sees him.

Micah downs the shot of liquor before he shoots up from the bar stool, following Joe and some other feller on their way through the back door

The music is loud and chaotic and the strippers are hypnotizing enough to draw the most attention of drooling old timers and sexually frustrated men. 

Just as Joe's fellow man pushes open the backdoor for a talk, Micah plants a friendly arm around Joe's shoulder as he discreetly pokes the weapon at his side. "Hey, Joe. Keep walking." 

Joe stares at the gun and the blonde with a solid face. 

The other man turns around. "What the he-" 

"Shut your piehole," Micah orders as he waves the weapon at him instead. " _Keep_ _walking,_ I said."

The man turns his head forth again as they come out on the backyard of the strip club. With fences and a gate surrounding it, they can speak undisturbed. 

Micah retreats the arm around Joe. He holds the shotgun in both hands as if to look it over. 

"Who the hell is this guy, Jo-" 

Without warning, Micah smashes his face in with the weapon before the man can finish his sentence. 

Joe rolls his eyes as he sees his companion pass out on the ground, no doubt with a broken nose. "Now his wife's gonna kill me. Thanks for that, Micah." 

The poorly illuminated area is not enough to conceal the blonde's wild stare as he holds the shotgun two-handed and aims at the other from the height of his waist. For once, Micah doesn't feel like chit-chatting. "I've come for my money, Joe." 

Joe's face is neutral. He looks down for a second before they fixate on the other again. " _Your_ part, yeah?" Joe shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. "Sure, I've got it." 

Micah shakes his head slowly as he tuts him. "Oh-ho no. I want _all_ of it." 

"That isn't what you said si-" 

"No, you're right. It _wasn't_. BUT _I_ didn't agree on spending thirty-four fucking years on Sisika. _Now_ , our agreement - has _changed_."

"You're telling me you're taking my third of the money?" 

"Yeah, and when I've taken that, I'll take Cleet's too… You don't happen to know where he's at, do you?" 

"Yeah I know where he's at." 

"Soooo, where is he?" 

"You know, for being so clever, you've always been goddamn stupid, Bell." 

Micah ignores the man's effort of provoking him. "Where. Is. Cleet?" 

"I ain't telling you shit."

Micah’s eye twitches somewhat. "Really?" 

"Yeah. Rea-" 

Joe stops talking as Micah stomps at the unconscious man's head. One time, two times, and six times. Finishing with a kick, he surely has Joe's attention. 

"Now… You don't have to explain yourself to his… missus," Micah pants as he shrugs his leg in the air to get all the blood off from his boot. "You'll just have to write a speech… for his funeral - telling everyone it was _your_ goddamn stupidity that killed him." 

Being a pretty big guy, Joe had always been able to fend for himself, seldom fearing any man. But he'd know when to respect the odds as well. He looks down at the cracked skull of his companion, then at the sawed off shotgun he realises his old associate wouldn't hesitate to fire. Man had always been crazy after all. 

Joe nods slowly, reluctantly accepting Micah’s order. "If I'm telling you, you ain't killing me." 

"Fine. Whateverrr. Just take me to the money first, will you." 

"It's in my office." 

Micah cocks his head to the building. "Oh, so you own the place?" 

"Yeah." 

"Go oooon."

"I used the money to make investments in it. Was a sorry looking sight - the interior and women both - before I bought it."

"Any profits?" 

Joe sighs. "Maybe…" He doesn't seem so eager to tell. "Look. You'll get every last penny. I've got an additional two-hundred grand in there but those are fucking mine."

"Deeeeal." Micah gives an agreeing nod. "So? What are you waiting for? _Walk_. _Casually._ "

Joe reaches for the door handle and opens. The loud music leaks out instantly and moving so close behind Joe, Micah barely bothers with hiding his weapon. 

Micah subtly shoves the owner past the crowds of people as they watch a peculiar performance by the pole. 

"Hey! I don't want no knocking on my door. Make sure to tell the girls I'm busy!" 

The bartender gives a nod to Joe's order, not questioning any shady business going down inside his boss' office. 

Passing the bar, Micah looks through the thick smoke in the dim red light and misses the equally unaware Arthur entering the place. 

The younger man sees red in more ways than one. 

The light is cold and bright in Joe's office and Micah locks the door at the same time as he aims at the other fully.

Joe walks with heavy steps towards the massive safe in the corner, holding his various fortunes. 

Micah takes a look around the office with an unimpressed grimace. He notices a leather bag at the desk, perfect for his cause. He walks over and pours and shakes out the clean set of clothes and belongings inside. 

"How'd you know I was in Armadillo? Who talked?" 

"Your dead friend in the backyard," the blonde answers, dead serious. 

"...Bullshit," Joe huffs after staring at him for a long while. 

"Yeah that was bullshit," Micah admits with a monotonous voice. "Of course it wasn't him. I don't even know who the hell he is. _Was_."

Joe raises his broad chin, waiting for the other to elaborate. 

Micah chuckles selfishly. "O-kay. Here comes a _true_ story for you, big guy. See, I met a feller named…" He thinks about it for a few long moments, snapping his fingers as he remembers. "Ryan! That was his name. I met Ryan while I was locked up at Sisssikaaa… A _young_ _ling_ he was _…_ that had fallen in with the O'Driscoll family, serving time for something some other goon in their crowd had done just to prove to Colm he had grown a pair. Now, this, uhm, _Ryyyan_ happened to mention a _big_ man called _'Big Joe'_ when he bragged about his doings - told me Joe was Colm's henchman and an ugly-looking type with a big ass tattoo over his chest. 'Some stupid shit in french' - yeah, that's what he said about it if I recall correctly. And that's more than enough for me to realise it was none other than _your_ ugly face he was talking about. When I asked about this Big Joe's residence, he told me - 'Armadillo'. Said you'd moved down here a couple of years back." Micah looks excited by his own explanation. "Shit. The world _sure_ is small, ain't it, Joe?" The blonde gives a brilliant smile, enjoying when things worked out in his favor. "But it made me wonder… what _is_ your story with the O'Driscolls, hm? Why get mixed up with the fucking rivals?" 

"He weren't no rival of _mine_. What went down is - the man has sold me a shipment of guns back north a couple of times. In turn, I help them take care of a few fellers they want gone. Ain't nothing more to it. I still got my own business going on and I _need_ those shipments. What would you have me do all these years with your boss man Dutch out of the game?" 

"Well not making business with _their_ kind _._ You can't trust an…" Micah looks disgusted. "...O'Driscoll. They've got a long line of bad blood." 

Despite his chest tattoo informing that everything made him laugh, Joe ironically seldom laughed. But he lets out a sound resembling a _chuckle_. "Don't we all?" 

Micah thinks about his father and his father before him. "Yes but that's not the point." 

"What's that, then?"

"The only point I'm interested in, is _you_ , getting on _your_ fat knees to open that damn safe. The point is, _me,_ getting what I'm owed. For uh, _lost time._ " 

"Look. I get that you're angry…" Joe says and turns his back to him, moving down to his knees in front of the safe. "...but I wasn't the one to make that call. That was Cleet's doing. What was I gonna do? Break you out of custody?"

"Now _that_ is the definition of bullshit." Micah can smell it. 

"It ain't." 

" _If_ Cleet's the one to have made that call, you can go ahead and give me his location then." 

Joe isn't slow on a decision, thinking he needed to tell the man what he wanted to hear. "Alright. If you want a one on one, he's moved down to Plainview, Rio Bravo. There's a trailer park just northeast of town on the way to the old Fort. It might not look like much but he's got the money hidden close by." Joe starts turning the combination dial, clicking sounds adding to the booming sound of the music in the building. "He might seem like a nice guy nowadays, taking his granny to the senior bingo on saturdays, working in the rodeo during the weekdays. But _he's_ the reason you got your thirty-fou-" A loud click sound reveals the release of the massive lock. Without finishing his sentence, Joe slowly opens the thick door, displaying the big piles of money inside. 

Micah tosses the spacious bag to land next to a kneeling Joe. "Fill it up."

Joe gives a glare before he yanks the bag at his side, doing what he's told. 

With the other busy, Micah paces around in silence for a while, walking over to the door to unlock and open only enough for one eye to take a chaste look, enough to miss Arthur. No one had gathered outside, everyone unaware of their _business_ inside. Micah speaks in the middle of turning around to Joe. "You know _why_ I know it's bullsh-" 

Micah instantly ducks as Joe aims. The latter fires a shot from the gun he had kept in the safe beneath all the money. 

They both hear the panicked screams coming from the bar. 

Scrambling towards the desk, another shot is fired in Micah’s direction, so close he can feel the wind of its trajectory. He lifts the shotgun above his head and fires over the desk without looking. He keeps his body low behind the sturdy furniture, waiting for any response of his reciprocal act. 

Micah carefully lifts himself up to take a peek over the piece of furniture. He is suddenly grabbed at from the side and jumped at. Getting his face instantly banged to the floor, Micah isn't capable to even lift the gun in his hand with the wild man twice his size. 

15\. saving ass 

Arthur drives slowly through the streets, searching for the town's strip club. Finding his hidden shotgun gone, he'd paid a visit to the town's gunshop since the weapon had no ammunition. Threatening to break a finger or perhaps two, the at first unwilling-to-help-him-out clerk had eventually given him the location he sought. 

Arthur doesn't have to look for the club long as he sees the bright blinking lights informing him of the many pair of breasts he would get to see if he walked in. Parking next to the neon heaven, he moves inside. 

The smoky and hot air inside is enough for anyone's eyes to tear up. He walks with determined steps, looking at every head of the men inside. 

With no luck, he waits for a while. 

Arthur glances at the door with the word 'Manager,' painted on it, the room placed to the left of the bar further away. 

Being slightly drunk, Arthur decides that sticking around is the most logical thing to do. If Micah truly is in here, he'd see him on the blonde's way out. Adding to the thick smoke in the air, Arthur lights a cigarette as he watches a topless woman spread her legs and spin around the pole. He thought it looked insane. 

As he looks over at the door again, he only catches a glimpse of it moving to a close. Leaning forward from the bar stool, he is just about to ask the bartender who owns the place anyhow. 

Arthur isn't prepared to get his face sprayed with blood. He is instantly on his feet, tipping over the bar stool as he stumbles back a step. One of the strippers talking with someone in the bar during her break, screams by the sight of the bartender getting his brains shot out of his head by the stray bullet. The panic spreads like wildfire and the small crowds scatter like cockroaches as further shots can be heard from inside the office, almost blending in with the music. 

Arthur tosses the cigarette away and wipes the blood splatter from his eyes as he hurries around to the other side of the bar counter. Glancing after the dispersing crowds running out of there, he stays and looks for any possible weapons hidden. Finding none, he settles with a big empty bottle. Looking away from it as he he smashes the bottom of it to the bartop, he then runs over and pushes the door open to the office. He sees the back of a familiar big guy banging Micah’s head mercilessly into the wooden floor. 

Arthur doesn't consider it before he walks up to the big man and slashes the other with his makeshift weapon. 

Then getting kicked in the face by Arthur, a bleeding Joe is sent away from the blonde man beneath him. Despite the blood squirting out of Joe's neck in the pace of his quick heartbeats, he reaches for his gun in one last attempt of bringing them both with him. 

"For crying out loud," Arthur pants as he with no effort kicks the gun away from the other. Grabbing him by the collar, Arthur drags him up slightly only to bash his head with force into the corner of the desk, silencing him for good. 

With furrowed brows, a realising Arthur takes in the view of the blonde man struggling to sit, then of the money. Arthur doesn't even think as he walks over to them and gathers the remaining bundles to throw inside the bag and close it. 

Only now does a huffing and puffing Micah stumble up on his feet. He instantly slips in the fresh blood that had sprayed everywhere. Arthur grabs his arm before he falls. "How many times _does_ your sorry ass needs saving??" he scolds as he starts to drag Micah out of there, pausing as he reaches down for his shotgun. His busy hand tugs furiously at Micah’s arm as if his intention is to rip it off. "I swear this is the last-" 

"The _baaaaag_ , Arthur!" a dizzy Micah yells to him before yanking his arm free. He stumbles back to the safe in confusion. 

"I've got it!" Arthur informs and throws the bag to Micah who catches it in an instant. The blonde's chuckles are more guttural sounds from the beating he had gotten as he kicks at Joe's lifeless body only to take the man's gun with him. Blood gushing out of Micah’s nose the second time in only a week, he spits out the blood-mixed saliva as he catches up with the other.

An alert Arthur awaits him by the door with two bullet holes in it, grabbing Micah’s arm once more to keep him steady as they move carefully through the club. Holding the shotgun ready in front of him, Arthur opens the main door to take a look at the outside world. It's eerily quiet on the streets, no soul in sight. 

Micah squints his eyes and shrugs his head as if he's got a hard time with his vision. 

"You ready? The pickup's just outside. We need to get the hell _away_ before the cops get here." 

The determination in Arthur's blood splattered face is enough for Micah to grab him by the collar and pull him in to plant a hard kiss on his lips. Arthur pushes him away with a curse under his breath only to drag them out of there. 

Getting to the vehicle within seconds, Arthur and Micah shut their doors at the same time. In the exact moment that Arthur starts the car, they can see the flashing red and blue lights of several incoming police cars. 

"Ah, fu-uuck. _Drive_ , Arthur, fucking driiiiiivee!" Micah roars like some madman. 

Arthur reverses in a sharp arc before shifting gears in mere seconds. Hitting the gas pedal to the floor, they flee the scene in a dangerous speed through the new night, heading west. 

  
  


15\. paranoid lovers 

An exhausted Arthur and Micah sit opposite each other on the dry ground under the burning sun. Arthur glaring at Micah and Micah staring at the opened bag of money between them.

Having been chased for the most part of the night, Arthur’s chaotic driving under the influence had lost the majority of the cops by speeding through a massive cacti field east of Gaptooth Ridge. Not stopping for another hour to lose the rest, they had eventually found miles and miles of passes of rock formations to lose themselves in. 

Not caring about the dusty winds blowing in, tiny grains of sand sticking itself right to their sweaty and bloody faces, neither had said a word since getting out of the car. 

"That's more than 1,7 million dollars," Arthur states as he had observed a focused Micah counting them. 

They both know what it means, adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere between them. 

"You knew where the money was all along, _didn't_ you, Micah?" Arthur's voice is dangerously calm. " _Our_ crew's money." 

Sitting with crossed legs and looking over one bundle before putting it back, Micah raises his chin high, a careless smile threatening to crack out on his lips. "Skinny and Maddy took the money and left as soon as they found them back at their place while I was away. They took their pathetic chances and crossed me, thinking they could get away with it. _That_ much is true."

"In turn, you blew their faces off with your old man's pistols." 

"And _that's_ where facts and theories collide." 

Arthur’s attentive but crazy stare makes the smile on Micah's lips to finally escape. 

"I was meaning to get the money back for us." Micah gestures his hand in a rolling motion. "Do _right_ by me and all." 

"But then you got greedy," Arthur explains for the other, raising his brows. "Saw an opportunity to take it for yourse-" 

"Noooo. Nooooo. _Nooooo,_ " Micah repeats with irritation. "I _WAS_ gonna get the money back for us all. But THEN I realised how quickly the lot of you turned on me. I could see it in all your faces and suspicious whispers during our meet-up when I tried to explain myself. So I decided then and there, that you all wouldn't get a single penny of that money when I found them again." 

Arthur watches him from the shade under the brim of his hat, noticing how hard Micah had taken their way of treating him towards the end - speaking with clear contempt in his voice. 

"But with your uncle Hosea and his _favorite dog_ Lenny keeping an eye on me, they wouldn't let me look for the money _myself_. So they send out Javier and Charles to do it, _remember?"_

"Yeah, but they never did find any money. The trace went cold and then Maddy and Skinny were found dead." 

"That's because I came up with this grand idea before they even drove across the country to start looking."

Arthur exhales deeply, everything starting to make sense. "Your old pals Cleet and Joe." The pair had helped their crew out on different occasions when Dutch needed the muscles. Familiar with Micah, he had been the only one to vouch for them. 

"Bingo… 'I'll _make_ Cleet and Joe find and take care of Skinny _for_ me. I'll offer them to split the money in three.' That's what I said. As soon as the job was done, you and I'd leave for good in the morning after meeting up with them."

Arthur swallows uncomfortably. " _We?"_ he asks with a still face but loud voice. 

Micah grinds his jaw left to right while keeping eye contact. Spitting out a great amount of blood and saliva on the dusty ground, he smirks. "You didn't think I'd leave you behind, did you now, cowpoke?" he all but tuts. 

Arthur isn't able to hold back his anger. "You never told me this, Micah." 

"No," the blonde sighs. "I must've _forgotten_." 

Arthur can feel his face pound. "What made you change your mind then? Was it 'cause of Charlie and my so called _fling_ with her, hm?" he questions with venom. 

"Don't think so highly of her, Arthur," Micah says with a bored voice. "Nooo - I simply realised you wouldn't come around then… you wouldn't come around _at all_. You'd never agree to take the money for yourself. You was always too loyal to your _daddy_." 

Arthur finds hatred towards the man in front of him. Feeling both betrayed by the blonde and attacked by what he knows is the truth. 

"I realised I was right when you took off without a word. I was meaning to meet up with Joe and Cleet the next morning but they sold me out before the end of the damn day so they could split my third." 

Arthur snorts at Micah's confessions. "You could've told the cops about them. Gotten yourself a deal."

Micah snaps his fingers frantically. "Yes! _Yes_ , why didn't I think of that…? 'Dear jury, I didn't _kill_ them but I _did_ order a hit _murder_ on them, I'll let Joe and Cleet fill you in on the blanks'," the blonde speaks with sarcasm. 

"They would've been locked in there with you, at least. You could've gotten rid of a _few_ years of your sentence."

"And in turn, they would've ratted us _all_ out 'bout the robbery, Arthuuuur," Micah points out in an intense speed. "Nooo, if they had gotten their asses caught, the money would've too… And I preferred to know it was still out there - _somewhere_ along with my _eventual_ freedom… You see, I had been meaning to escape Sisika long before they even shipped me there. I didn't plan on it taking six years though," he smiles. 

Arthur lowers his head at the secrets and misunderstandings between them. Taking it all in. 

"Don't act so surprised about the money, cowpoke," Micah suddenly says, making Arthur flinch within the second. "You're not so innocent yourself." 

Arthur raises his chin, keeping a neutral face. "The _hell_ you're saying?" he whispers darkly. 

Micah leans forward slightly to come closer to the other. He shoves the bag of money aside. "Why did you agree on helping me in the first place, hm?" He raises a brow. "It sure as hell wasn't because you felt you _owed_ me, nor that you was happy to _see_ me."

Arthur blinks slowly. "I _was_ happy." The sentence comes out quietly in an effort to sound truthful. 

"Is that _so?"_ Micah whispers, his cold blue eyes drifting slowly all over Arthur's bloody and grimy face. 

Arthur doesn't let the other get to him. "Yeah."

"Mm." Micah doesn't sound convinced. 

Arthur suddenly points a warning finger at him. "You _also_ threatened to _snitch_ on me if I didn't help you," he snarls when Micah doesn't believe his reason. "In _case_ you forgot. _You_ said I would _help_ you or _shoot_ you. And now… I'm starting to think I should've done the _last_. Then I wouldn't be in this goddamn mess!" 

Micah grimaces theatrically at the cold words. "That wasn't why you helped meee, cowpoke," he grins as he grabs Arthur's chin in his hand. He shakes him slightly as if examining Arthur's face. 

"No?" Arthur frowns and grins back, feeling himself to start losing his temper. He grabs Micah’s wrist in his hand to yank it down from his face. " _No?"_ He grits his teeth as his trembling breaths leave him slightly faster. "I don't know where the hell _you've_ been the last week, but _I've_ been busy with taking a fucking _snake_ named Micah Bell across the damn country…!" he hisses and tightens his grip around Micah’s equally strong arm. Micah merely looks at him humored and with expectation. This provokes Arthur even more. "I just _killed_ a man to save _your_ worthless life. _I_ did! _Not_ you - 'cause you would've been dead if I hadn't and them cops would've gotten to come home to their families instead of chasing after _your_ sorry ass over the fucking states! I should've just taken my chances and turned you in the moment I saw you! Yeah - that's what I _should've_ done!" 

"You finished?" Micah asks but without a grin this time. 

"No. I ain't finished!" Arthur spits and twists Micah’s arm around so that the blonde jerks forward, stuck in a painful locked position. "You think this is _funny_ _?_ You've got the whole damn country after you but you just _laaaugh._ Ooooh, you _laugh…_ " Arthur bends the arm further behind the blonde's back. 

"You're gonna break my _arm_ _off_ , _Aaarthur?!_ Huh??" Micah growls and clenches his jaw without the intention of begging him to stop. His breaths leave him in short bursts through his nose as his pride doesn't allow him to show the excruciating pain that washes over him. 

Arthur leans down to him. "I helped you out, thinking that if we just kept to _my_ rules, we'd be fine, and I could go back to Annesburg within two weeks. Instead, you mess with my… with my fucking _head_ and now you've made me your goddamn accomplice!" 

At the same time, Micah is convinced _Arthur_ is the one messing with _his_ head. 

"So now when I've given you the facts, _you_ tell _me_ why I helped you! Spit it out _now! '_ Cause I sure as hell can't figure out what it is you're implying!" 

Micah releases a few wild laughs, coming out short, just like his breaths. "We know each other inside and ooout, _Arthuuur…_!" he grits his teeth as he struggles with holding his body still in Arthur's grip as to not make it worse. " _You_ helped _meee_ because you knew _I_ could get to the money! So that _yooou_ could get to the money!" 

Arthur's eyes are wide open as he stares down the blonde beneath him and his bold accusation. 

"Deeeeep down, you always knew I was lying all those years ago. You _did_. I could see it in your face every goddamned day. Juuuust admit it - You only went along on this trip for _yourself_ , didn't you? So I could take you to the moneeey." 

"Careful with what you're saying, Micah," Arthur warns with a dangerous voice. 

"You and I - we've always been the same, Arthur." 

"The hell we have." 

"We're _both_ liars! You said so yourself. You said we'd never know what is true and what is _not._ So LET'S believe what we WANT to believe!" 

Arthur can't answer. 

Micah lowers his gaze, seeming to struggle with keeping a straight face. "Out of curiosity… Were you planning on killing me after I had found the money, or would you let me live? Ditch me somewhere in the middle of the fucking desert, hm?" His voice trembles for a second. " _Here_ perhaps?!" 

Arthur releases his grip with an expression filled with something like disgust as he pushes the other away from him. 

Sitting on his heels, Micah pants, rubbing a hand over the sore arm. "Cat got your tongue _now_ , huh?!" he growls, becoming furious with the other and by his own doubts in Arthur. 

Sitting similarly in the dust, Arthur's head is filled with too many bewildering thoughts. He tries to form words but something hinders him from it. 

"Ugh! I _can't_ hear you, Arthur!" Micah yells to him impatiently. 

"I was…" Arthur starts. 

_"What??"_ Micah spits, losing his temper for real. "Speak louder, cooowpoooke!" 

"I _WAS_ happy to see you, Micah." Arthur looks him straight in the eye. 

Micah snorts, calming down in an instant except for his heaving chest. His eyes turns to narrow slits after a few long thirty seconds. "The hell you were." 

"I _was_ happy. To see you," Arthur says for the third time, even quieter than the first time. "Why ain't that enough of a reason for ya? Why does it have to do anything with the money?" 

Micah has a hard time believing him. "How're you gonna prove that, hm?" he questions. 

Arthur doesn't know how one can prove something like that. Arthur eyes him from head to toe before he decides to express himself in a way he knows Micah can understand. 

Arthur lunges at him like a predator do its prey. 

Micah closes his eyes the second he feels Arthur's lips to his. He allows the tongue to slide over him and he groans as Arthur locks his fingers in his messy ponytail, yanking back to gain entry inside his mouth. Both their hats blow off with a particular hard wind of dust, the hats continuing on a lost journey of their own. 

Holding his dirty face, Micah rubs his thumb over Arthur's cheek, feeling his one-week stubble scratch against his skin.

Arthur clenches his fingers in Micah’s colorful shirt over his chest, pulling the blonde even closer to himself. With trembling breaths leaving him, Arthur groans into the deep kiss they seldom had shared before. He feels a firm hand over his chin as he's guided away an inch and their kissing abruptly stops. Micah observes him with half a smile. 

Lost in a cloud, Arthur breathes out a 'what.' 

Micah tuts him. "Not. Good. Enough."

Arthur growls lowly and is on Micah again and the blonde laughs deeply into the new kisses as Arthur straddles him with determination. Arthur briefly has the time to think of how genuine it sounds instead of the usual sarcastic and patronizing ones.

With neither of them intending to end their touches, Arthur follows Micah as he slowly leans back until they're on the dusty ground. Still on top of him, Arthur keeps a steady arm to the ground next to a lying Micah as the other hand works with the buckle of his own belt. Retreating from the kiss, Arthur gazes down between them as he gets the belt out of the way. Micah takes the opportunity to do the same with his free hands, although he greedily plants a few kisses on Arthur’s chin and the corner of his mouth. It draws a chaste smile from Arthur's lips, as if he's dealing with too many things at once while thinking with his cock. 

Despite the short length of Arthur's hair, Micah manages to get a good enough grip in it to tilt the man's head slightly. Bruising Arthur's neck with bites and sucks, Micah relishes in his taste, despite it being mixed with blood and the consistency of small grains of sand. 

Arthur pulls his jeans down only enough so he can get better access between his legs. Digging his hand inside his boxers, he breathes against Micah’s shoulder as he works himself harder. His released cock aches between them and Arthur lifts himself up slightly to allow Micah to pull out his own cock.

Arthur steadies himself with a strong arm, continuing to hold his body up an inch as he starts touching Micah instead. 

Focusing on massaging and kissing, Arthur hadn't even taken the time to look at the other's face until now. "What the _hell…_ are you doing?" he pants as Micah lies there relaxed, observing him with his arm under his head as pillow in the middle of their ensuing sex. "You're gonna let me do all the work?" Arthur calls out slightly irritated. 

"You'll _manage_. I'm just enjoying seeing you so…" Micah sighs. "... worked up. It might be my last chance to do so," he points out with a teasing smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

Not wanting to lose his erection by the punch in the gut comment, Arthur doesn't have time to argue. He sinks his head onto Micah’s shoulder and starts jerking off quickly to regain his hardness and focus on it and nothing else. He moans under his breath as he feels Micah’s throbbing cock to his at the same time as Micah’s free hand caresses his cheek, far too soft to be considered normal for the blonde. Either way, it's enough for Arthur to get back some of the lost sensation. 

He takes Micah in his hand, rubbing his own cock alongside his as he strokes Micah’s foreskin with slow but steady drags. 

"Arthur…" Micah squirms slightly under the touch and lifts his leg to bend his knee. He uses the new position to pump gently into Arthur's enthusiastic hand. 

Arthur can sense the man holding back so he touches him more purposefully, increasing the pace with his strokes. He rolls his own hips, rubbing his seeking cock over Micah’s groin. Arthur presses his lips to Micah’s cheek, letting his tongue move over the salty skin until he end up at his ear. Nibbling and licking at the earlobe, Arthur adds a few breathy moans by the familiarity. 

It seems to do the trick. Micah grabs the back of Arthur's head to clash their lips together once more. The more tastes Arthur gets of him, the harder he becomes. 

"M-mm." Arthur isn't prepared for the sudden touch at his pulsating cock. 

Micah smiles weakly into the kiss as he starts to pleasure the younger man. 

Arthur moves his hips and fucks into Micah’s hand along with the pace of his own hand getting fucked by Micah. 

The blonde adds spit and Arthur slides easier inside the palm and enclosing fingers. Arthur pumps in short bursts, enjoying particularly when the pressure runs over the swollen and wet tip of his length. 

"Aw, shit..." 

"Enjoying… yourself?" Micah breaths out, not able to hide how much _he_ was. 

Arthur’s distorted face is enough of an answer as he shoots his load straight onto Micah’s stomach and groin with a few slow and trembling pumps. He couldn't hold it back. He kisses Micah throughout his ecstacy. 

Arthur feels like his head is spinning but when Micah only manages to breathe into his mouth, he knows the other is getting closer. Arthur uses his own cum to lube up his hand with. 

"Aaah, _fuuuuck…_!" Micah growls through gritted teeth as Arthur makes use of his hand more purposefully, able to focus fully on the other by now. Closing his fingers to a tighter fit, he instead slows down drastically, delaying Micah’s orgasm. Arthur keeps his eyes fixated on him, intending to see every moment of his bliss. 

Micah doesn't seem to agree with the pace. He plants his hand over Arthur's and guides it to jerk him off harder and faster. Opening his eyes, Micah sees he's already being watched. Getting some of Arthur's semen on his own fingers, Micah lifts his hand back up up to hold Arthur's cheek. He brushes his thumb over the lips slightly parted already, pushing his digit inside the other's mouth. Micah is hypnotized when Arthur sucks his own cum off his thumb, moving his tongue and lips like he's giving a time consuming blowjob. 

Micah focuses on it as he spills himself all over Arthur's hand and his own stomach to mix with the other man's sticky mess. 

He looks at Arthur's face with three dried in fluids on it. "You're fucking disgusting," he states as his body had stopped trembling from the orgasm. "But I like it." 

Arthur raises his brows and gives a nod with a tilted head, not actually disagreeing to that. 

"Get off me, cowpoke, I wanna clean myself up." 

Arthur gets off and Micah loses the shade the man's body had offered. Micah squints his eyes as he sits up, wondering where his hat had gone off to. 

Tucking himself in on the short way to the pickup, Arthur fetches a bottle of now warm water and the tissues Micah had bought for some reason. Or perhaps shoplifted. He wouldn't know. 

Micah is quiet, not casting out any comment, dirty or insulting alike, like he usually does after they've had sex.

Micah cleans himself up in silence, a rare serious expression on his face. 

Arthur wets some tissues to clean his face up. He grunts as he sees the mix of dirt brown and blood red on the paper. 

Micah tucks his cock inside his pants and stands up with a slight effort. Without much enthusiasm, he walks to get their hats that had blown away. 

Miles of natural rock formation surround them in the desert landscape, but with the sun set directly above them, there is close to no shade in this particular pass.

Arthur hands a cigarette to Micah as the blonde puts his hat on himself and then Arthur's on him. 

"Was it _that_ bad?" Arthur jokes at Micah’s gloomy face. 

"I'm pretty sure Joe gave me a concussion," Micah explains in a drawl while lighting the cigarette. As if he had prepared for it, Micah’s nose starts to bleed anew by their little workout. The blonde doesn't even bother with it by now, merely squinting his eyes as he stares to the ground and lets himself bleed. 

Somehow, it makes Arthur feel better. It meant that Micah’s comment about this being the last time he could see Arthur like this, had nothing to do with words they had never said to each other. 

"Micah. About the money." 

"Ah yes. The money." Micah seems far away. "I reckon we split it… Yes - Let's split it. 50/50."

"50/50...?" 

Micah looks up at him. "Yes. Half is _aaaaall_ yours."

Arthur is wary. It couldn't be that easy. Not with Micah. "Oh yeah? On what condition, huh?" 

Micah smiles fully, blood slowly running down, over his lips and dripping from his chin. "... _How_ would you feel about leaving the States with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shieeeeet. What to do, what to do. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

17\. border, not soil 

"The roads will be filled with cops. We've only been-" 

"We lost the cops after the cacti field, Arthur. They last saw us head north, not south," Micah waves off with lack of worry. "And south is where we're headed. You think th-" 

"Will you let me fucking _finish?"_ Arthur talks over the other like he'd done him. 

Micah shuts up and gestures a hand for him to please - _go ahead_. 

"I was saying… we've _only_ been lucky this far because they thought you was still in the northeastern territory. Nothing else... Until _last night_ , that is." Arthur gives a tired sigh. " _Now_ \- I doubt we'll even make it to Plainview County for that house call of yours." 

"It's our _final_ stop before Mexico, Arthur... Cleet don't get to walk away with them money. Nah-uh." 

Arthur huffs out a humorless laugh. "He already _has…_ walked away with that money. _Maybe_ you should let this one go… just this once. What if-"

"The way I see it, he's been merely holding on to them for me. If he's smart, he figured out six years ago I was always gonna come for him." 

"Okay. Okay. Let's say we get the money from him... Even if we _do_ manage to get to San Luis afterwards, we can't _drive_ across the Frontera… They'll be watching the bridge and control any vehicles - _thoroughly -_ trying to cross the border…" Arthur's gaze is equally steady and serious. "You understand what I'm saying, M?" 

Micah takes a drag from the cigarette between his fingers as he ponders. "Yesss, I follow… " 

"The illegal migration to the states skyrocketed a couple of years back… there was some talking about increasing the patrols along the river - on Mexican and 'merican soil alike. I don't know what became of it though… Haven't been through there in years." 

"Is this your nice way of telling me we're fucked?" 

Arthur closes his hand over the steering wheel despite not driving. Both of them sitting in the still pickup before one of the last drives towards Micah’s freedom, they seem somewhat deep in thought. "No… No. The way I see it, you only got _one_ option left but _hell_ \- it might just work." Arthur nods to his own plan that he knows Micah shares. "The good old fashioned ways are sometimes the very best. We only need to create some noise to make it work." 

Micah tosses the cigarette away through the open window. "We need to get ourselves a waterproof bag then." 

"I'll fix one."

"You're not afraid of showing your pretty face among people?" 

Arthur grunts. "As far as we know, the cops must suspect _you_ killed Joe and that other guy. You haven't exactly been careful with hiding your face and all," he remarks. "They don't even know I was involved and the plate on my pickup ain't even the one." 

"Oh really?" 

"I had it replaced while you was showering back at my place," Arthur explains. "They've got nothing on me. Nah-uh." 

Micah raises an impressed brow at him. 

"Gonna get us some new clothes while I'm at it." Arthur takes off the bloody shirt and displays his impressive body with the tight white undershirt beneath sitting perfectly and tucked inside his jeans. He sits himself right again, somewhat tense. "If we're doing this, it has to happen at nightfall." 

" _Tomorrow_ night then. _Tonight_ we head for Plainview to find Cleet and that money."

Arthur pulls his lips into a serious line. " _You_ find Cleet. I'll go wait at some motel." 

Micah tilts his head. "What're you saying?" He's not so surprised, considering Arthur hadn't actually agreed to his proposal. "If you want _your_ half of the money, you'll have to fucking _work_ for it, Arth."

Arthur rests his eyes for a second, struggling to find the right words to answer with. "When you showed up at my door, I agreed on taking you to the border, Micah, not to follow you to Mexican soil." 

Micah is quiet, knowing their agreement from the start. The disappointment is present either way but the only thing to betray him is a subtle raise of his chin. "I reckon you've made your choice then," he says without emotion and more to himself. "even if it'll leave you with nothing." He watches Arthur closely to read his reaction. 

Arthur gives close to none. "It ain't… _nothing_. I've still got a life… a job… and a family back here… and I'm risking _everything_ … right now, Micah." Arthur looks directly at him. " _Will_ risk everything _again_ tomorrow night when _you're_ gonna cross that border." He is very calm. With Arthur's stern voice, the blonde can only think that his words are _just_. "I prefer to lie low until tomorrow night. I've gone and done one stupid thing too many already…" He sighs, thinking about the mayhem of Armadillo. With age, wisdom had apparently not come to any of the two. "No, you're gonna have to do this without me and if you get caught… you _get caught_." Arthur shrugs a shoulder at the simple fact. "If that happens, you _will_ get the chair… " 

"This means you ain't interested in the money?" Micah asks him straight out, a tone of disbelief. "perhaps you never was, hm?" He furrows his brows. 

The both of them look in front of them and the crooked landscape with walls of rocks reaching to the sky. 

"Who knows," Arthur says ambiguously. "What happens if I say no?" 

"C'mooon… Not even if you could bring them back to our old _friends?_ Or more likely - to your family…? Because it would be the Arthur-like thing to do?" Micah smirks. 

Arthur doesn't think about it for too long. "I believe that… _That_ job going south, made everyone stop and think about what they were doing, most importantly what they _wanted_ to do with their lives. We all took what we had and started over. I reckon it was for the best… although… I miss it sometimes." 

"...Makes us two, cowpoke." 

The both of them look away, drifting their eyes over the world that suddenly feels so stillful silent. 

That's when Arthur nudges at Micah’s arm to get his full attention. "The money..." he looks directly at the blonde. "...are _still_ missing. That's all _I_ know…" He pats a hand over Micah’s two times but he never lingers over it. He gives half a smile. "And I never _did_ see Micah Bell take a swim in the San Luis River."

They look at each other for a long time. An overwhelmed Micah nods a few slow times at Arthur’s promise of taking the affair to the grave. _Trying_ , _wanting_ , to believe him, he doesn't know if he can. 

Suddenly clapping a rough hand to Micah’s shoulder to remind them of their situation, Arthur grunts and drawls like only he could. "Whaddaya say, cowboy? How about getting this show on the road, huh? You've got your boy Cleet waiting and all..." He forces a smile. Something Micah picks up on. "along with uh, your money." 

Micah merely blinks one slow time as an affirmative response. 

Arthur turns the keys and listens to the engine roar awake of his trusty pickup. He realises one last detail. "Shit. We'll have to ditch the car if we ever want to make it to Plainview without getting the cops on our tail… Lord, I'm gonna miss it… " He brushes both hands over the steering wheel, knowing it would be confiscated somehow when they left it. 

Micah snorts as if he's accepting a self-titled challenge. " _I'll_ get rid of the car for you. You don't want to be around if I'm getting us another. With you wanting to lie low and all that." 

"... You sure?" 

"Pfft. Just give me two hours," Micah says with confidence. 

"Two hours?" 

Micah thinks about it like there's nothing to think about. "Yes. You'll get off as soon as we get to the road. You can walk to the nearest station and I'll return with a goddamn Porsche if you want." 

Arthur huffs to that. "Sure, Micah… sounds like a perfect plan." He brings out the map and searches with his eyes. Tapping his finger at the closest town. "This here's our best bet. Pick me up from there when you've got a new vehicle." 

Micah looks at the map. "So it seems…" He then becomes dead serious, in both face and voice. "...You'll _be_ there when I get back, right? 

"What?"

"You won't be taking no bus and ditch me, will you?" 

"I'll be there." 

"Good. No running away from me, you hear. It's just oooone more night and then I'll be out of your hair." Micah smiles fully with teeth. 

Arthur briefly thinks that Micah is the one doing the running away. "Thanks for the reminder," he says with a slightly bitter undertone. 

Micah picks up on it as well. "Well it's your choice, cowpoke, not mine." 

18\. Mavis 

At approximately 9:30 pm outside the desert town of Tumbleweed, Mavis Chambers locks her small store for the evening. With only her car parked outside, she doesn't pay much attention to her surroundings. 

Being a widow, her mind is preoccupied of memories of him from the past. Turning the keys to unlock the door to the car, she shakes her head to herself as she realises she'd forgotten to lock it again. 

Sitting herself in the driver's seat, she only stares in front of her like she always does before her drive home. Thinking about the food she would eat from yesterday's lonely dinner, put away in the fridge with tin foil wrapped over the plate. 

Having a particular rough day today, she starts to cry as she thinks of the bed with the missing warmth from her husband. 

"I don't mean to interrupt your, uhm, _moment,_ " she suddenly hears someone call out from behind her. 

She releases a short scream of fright as she turns her head to locate the speaker sitting in the backseat. She is met by a familiar blonde man pointing a pistol at her face. 

"Don't look at me, look in front of you," the man orders. Mavis immediately does what she's told. 

Micah smiles almost politely as she, to his surprise, seems to calm down by the sight of the weapon, although her chest heaves heavily up and down by the present danger. 

"What do you want?" Mavis asks with a trembling, almost venomous voice. "Money? I've got six dollars in my wallet. That's all." 

Micah almost coughs from the laughter escaping his lips, unknowingly tapping his fingers over the bag of fortune next to him. "No… I don't want any _money_ … Nooo - I just want your _car_."

"No!" Mavis exclaims, stressing the words out. "You _can't_ take it! It was m-my husband's… he… he..."

"Ain't around no more?" Micah finishes her sentence for her. 

"...No." 

"I'm so sorry to hear that," the blonde says with an uninterested voice. "When did he die?" 

Mavis furrows her brows, although the stranger cannot see it, finding the situation surreal. "Two years ago… " 

"Huh."

Micah keeps quiet for a while and Mavis darts her eyes left to right in her scared confusion. 

Micah inhales quickly. "I'm gonna make myself short. I'm giving you _this…_ " He tosses a bundle of money to the passenger seat. "...for the car. That's a whole lot more than this piece of junk is worth. Please. Count it if you want. Please tell, if it ain't good enough." 

Mavis reluctantly reaches for the money next to her and looks them over. It's more money than she's ever had in her life. 

"All pretty little you gotta do is get your ass over to the police station and report your car stolen tomorrow night. That way, they won't give you noooo fuss." 

"...Wh-what?" 

"Woman, will you just let me finish?" Micah barks. 

Mavis swallows, nodding frantically at the raised voice. 

"Gooood girl… Now. Do you live close by?" 

"I-I rather not say-" 

"Oh but you're gonna _have_ to, or else I'll shoot you and take the car _either_ way. And you get nooo money because you'll be lying _dead_ , dumped from your _dead_ husband's car." It's a simple choice for her in Micah’s world. 

New tears start to well up in Mavis' eyes by the threat. She takes a deep breath. "Okay… okay. I live ten minutes from here," she tells quietly before adding the address. 

"Any neighbors?" 

"No. And no one ever comes around no mo-"

"What's your name?"

"Mavis. Mavis Chambers." 

Micah nods as she tells him. Then he hands a set of car keys to her in which she takes with a few moments of hesitation. "There's a white pickup behind the store. The roads seem quiet enough… you can borrow it to get your sweet ass home but you don't want to be driving around in it after that. You're gonna park it outside your home and you're gonna leave the keys in it. When someone comes to collect it, you don't talk to this certain someone. You haven't even _seen_ this certain someone and you won't mention this certain someone to anyone."

Mavis listens attentively to the stranger's detailed to-do list. 

"I advice you right now to take whatever you want to keep from this car, 'cause you won't be seeing it again." 

Mavis' heart sinks. "It was my husband's…" she repeats with sadness. 

"Yes I knooow. Start gathering your stuff." Micah’s voice holds no sympathy. 

Mavis eventually does and the stranger allows her to take her time. When she's finished, he heads out and opens the door for her. 

Gesturing for her to get the hell out, he sits himself in the driver's seat. 

Immediately starting the engine, Micah rolls down the window to look at the woman. "You gotta move on at some point in your life, right?" He snorts nonchalantly. "It's been _yeeears_." Then he drives away. 

A piteous Mavis Chambers stands there for several minutes, looking after the peculiar stranger. She brushes her fingers over the money that is a close to fortune in her world, deep in thought about what her depressing future might hold. 

19\. oh brother, where art thou 

The light from the lamp above him blinks annoyingly. Arthur stands with a lowered head and a lifted arm to lean himself against the wall of the payphone booth, tapping his fingers anxiously over the cold surface his hand is rested upon. 

He waits and hopes for the other end to pick up this time. 

_"Seriously. It's in the middle of the fucking night and I've got a kid asleep."_

Arthur gives a genuine smile as he hears the hoarse and angry voice. 

" _Who the hell is this?"_

Arthur swallows. "How's it going?" 

_"Arthur."_ He laughs slightly. _"Shit, I didn't know it was you. Where the hell are you? Are you alright?"_

Arthur looks around the lonesome bus station, some drunken men stumbling past the booth with fixated gazes on him before they get on the evening bus waiting. "Uhm… I'm not close. That's for sure. And yeah, I'm alright. I guess." 

_"Alright… you don't mind telling me what the hell it is you're up to?_ " 

Arthur dodges the question. "I've been trying to call a couple of times." He tries not to sound resentful. 

_"I suspected it was you when I saw those missed calls. We've been pretty busy lately,"_ he apologises. _"It's work 24/7, you know."_

"That's alright. I've been busy too." 

He yawns. _"_ _You know, it's funny you should say that 'cause Abby's been nagging on me 'bout you not coming over for dinner anymore. How long has it been? Three months?"_

"Yeah. Something like that."

 _"So you can imagine her face the other week when I told her I had to drive to your place to check on Copper and Boadicea,"_ he chuckles. _"Just so you know, I took them both to the ranch with me since I didn't know when you'd be back,"_ he adds for clarification at the same time as pointing Arthur's vagueness out. 

"Shit, thanks for that… I'm sorry about being so brief with ya, John, I had some things I needed to… to take care of." 

_"What things? You're not in trouble, are you?"_

"No. No trouble." Arthur shakes his lowered head. 

_"When will you be back? You didn't tell me all that much in your voice message."_

"Yeah... Had to leave in a hurry. It's… complicated."

_"You don't have to be Mr. mystery man all the time. If there's something going on, you can just tell me. I'm your fucking brother."_

A deep sigh leaves Arthur. "I know, I know. Don't get your panties in a twist." 

Arthur can imagine John's grin to that. 

Arthur almost snaps his fingers to himself, remembering something. "Hey, you took that boar with ya when you was at my place?" 

_"...What boar?"_

"The boar! I told you in my message you all was welcome to have it. Hunted it the same damn day I called ya."

_"Shit. I must've missed that part..."_

"John, you f-" Arthur stops himself to breathe in slowly, not intending to scold the other when he'd been nice enough to take care of his animals. "Forget it. It's only 190 pounds of meat gone to waste," he remarks bitterly.

John chuckles very deeply on the other end. 

_"I was kidding. Shit. Relax."_

"Idiot." 

_"I brought it with me. Abigail tried to cook it."_

"How did that go?" 

_"I said 'tried', didn't I? That enough of an answer, ain't it?"_

Arthur holds back a laugh on the joke on poor Abigail’s behalf. He clears his throat, not intending to continue it. "How's little Jack?" 

_"Jack's great. He's been asking about you though."_

This draws a genuine smile from Arthur's lips. "I bet he has." 

_"He wants you to take him fishing."_

" _That_ , I _know_ he did." 

_"Well, are you?"_

Arthur puts another quarter in. "As soon as I get back." 

_"It's not like we live that far away from each other."_

"I know. I know… " 

_"Hey Arthur…"_

"Hm? 

_"You sure you're alright…?"_

Arthur thinks of it. Not knowing what to answer since his head is occupied with thousands of dilemmas. "Well… I mean yeah. Yeah," he decides. 

_"You're not with who I think you're with, right?"_

"No." Arthur waves off naturally. "The hell you take me for?" 

A sigh of relief leaves John. _"Can you blame me? Was worried you might've met up with him or something since I heard he was on the loose. I remember you were pretty good friends back in the days. I never liked him though."_

" _No one_ did." 

_"You did._ _Dad did."_

Arthur steps on a cigarette butt discarded from a stranger, crushing it under his boot. "...I suppose so." 

_"Yeah well. We can talk more 'bout it next time we see each other. Don't be gone for too long though, I've got my own life to worry about."_

"Hey, John."

_"What?"_

"... You remember them money that disappeared?" 

John is quiet for some time. _"Abigail don't want no talking about old stuff like that… but yeah, I remember them."_

"We never knew who actually took them." 

_"No. We didn't. But we got a fairly good idea, I'd say."_

"If _you_ would've known where they was, what would you have done?" 

_"Is this what you called me in the middle of the night to talk about? To answer questions 'bout what-ifs?"_

"Just answer my damn question. And it's not even 10 fucking pm yet." 

John laughs at Arthur's impatience. _"Alright, alright…"_ He gives a long lasting sigh as he ponders. _"If I'd found them right now. And I mean right now in this moment… I would've probably taken them for myself… and not told anyone about them."_

"No?"

_"No. I mean… why would I? Dad's got it fixed for himself and so does uncle Hosea, with their, uhm, old line of work and all. The rest… They stopped looking for those money, probably forgotten all about them."_

Arthur knows it's probable. Neither of them know what became of most of the associates to their estranged father. 

_"And even if they were friends to the family… I… I just don't care. I've got a family of my own to support now and another kid on the way… money like that would've come in handy."_

Arthur takes in John's words but frown at the subtle reveal. "...Oh really?" 

_"Yeah,"_ John exhales with a form of pride. _"Abigail thinks it's a girl."_

"That's…" Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, happy about it but selfishly displeased with the change of subject. "great." 

_"Mellow down some, will ya."_

Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, embracing the man's news fully with a deep intake of air. "I _do_ think it's great news, John. I do." 

_"I like the idea of a daughter. One of each, you know."_

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know." Arthur smiles faintly. 

_"And you're not planning on…?"_ John doesn't finish the sentence, as if there's no need. 

Arthur understands. "By now, I'm pretty sure that family life was never for me, you know." 

John is quiet for a moment. _"Maybe you'll find someone again, Arthur. You don't got anyone you like? Someone at the sawmill or something? There was a couple of gals working there, right?"_

Arthur sighs heavily, hesitating with bringing the subject up. "... Not anyone at work, no... But I… might've found _someone else._ We had a… _thing_ in the past."

 _"...Is it who I think it is?"_ John asks with expectation. _"The one you bought your house from? Charlotte something?"_

"Uuugh…" 

_"The two of you had a fling, right?"_

"I'm not saying _that_ much." 

_"It's her, ain't it?"_

"Uuuuh…" Arthur exhales once more. 

_"I fucking knew it. What, you've kept in touch with her?"_ John sounds eager for answers. 

Arthur realises it works just as well. "I like her, I suppose," he drawls, trying to not put too much weight on it. 

_"You spoke so well about her. Said she seemed like a good gal and all."_

"She is. _Sometimes_." 

_"Sometimes? Whaddaya mean?"_

Arthur casts a glance over his shoulder before he lowers his voice. "She can be funny and all that, sure."

_"But…?"_

"She ain't exactly someone you'd marry." 

_"How so?"_

"Nothing. Forget I-" 

_"C'mooon, Arthur, tell me-"_

" 'Cause she a fucking pain in the ass _most_ of the times… And some days, I want nothing else than punch her in the damn throat 'cause she _never_ listens. Never shuts up either." Arthur gets a little carried away. 

John keeps his silence for a very long time. _"...You shouldn't do that."_

"Of course I _won't_ ," Arthur huffs almost irritated. Of course he _could._

_"Nooow I see… You're in Chicago, aren't you…? Paying her a visit, huh?"_

"Something like that. She needed help with something." 

_"And?"_

"And what?" 

_"You said you liked her. That you could settle down with her."_

Arthur shoots down the suggestion immediately, almost coughing it out by the absurdity of it. " _Definitely_ _not_ settle down, that - I _never_ said but-" 

_"She loves you?"_

"..." 

_"If you 'like' each other then."_ John changes the word when he is met by silence. _"Then I don't see what your problem is, if there is one. Either you want her or you don't. Abby can be a pain in the ass too, but she's still the best."_

Arthur shakes his head. "It's not that simple, John." 

_"Or maybe it is. You think too much, Arthur. You ain't exactly getting any younger… you can't possibly let an opportunity like this slip out of your hands."_

Arthur can't hold back the choked laugh. Ironically thinking, what an utterly _lovely_ catch his love interest is. 

_"Who's got time to hold back, anyways, right?"_

"Biggest problem is, we don't exactly live close to each other. She could might as well live in goddamn Mexico or something…" Arthur doesn't even notices he's clenched his fist lightly as if he's prepared to punch someone. "And we've gone said and done some things in the past we can never take back. I don't trust _her_ and she don't trust _me_... Anymore." 

_"That, I can't help you with, brother. You'll have to work through that shit yourselves."_

"...Huh," Arthur says by John's uncomplicated solutions. He breathes for a long time, taking it all in. "You know… I never imagined myself taking advices from _you_ , John." 

_"Neither did I. Who's the oldest anyhow?"_

Arthur smiles warmly, thinking that John acts to be, right now. He knows somehow that the smile is returned. 

_"Dadddddyyy…! I had a bad dream…"_

_"Shit. Jack's awake. I gotta take him. Abigail’s gonna be so pissed when she-"_

_"John Marston! Who are you talking to??"_ a newly awakened Abigail scolds. 

_"No one, no-"_

Arthur merely blinks as John hangs up on him in his ear. Hanging the phone back in its place, he looks up at the blinking light illuminating the otherwise dark bus stops, John's advices not helping him in the slightest. 

Arthur sits himself down at some bench outside the bus station, his back and head pressed to the facade of the wall behind. He falls asleep for some time. 

What later wakes him up is a wildly honking Micah getting there - all within the time frame he'd himself set. 

Arthur looks at the car and it's definitely _not_ a fucking Porsche.

  
  


20\. light no light 

Stuck in a bad spiral of overthinking and questioning everything inside his own head, Arthur feels like shit with the endless dilemmas he finds himself in. 

"Shit." Arthur's heart skips a beat as he sees the red and blue lights blinking behind him. He doesn't breathe as he pulls over to the side of the road. 

With his eyes glued to the rear view mirror, he sees the officer shutting his door and walking up to him. 

Arthur calmly rolls down the window. "Evening, officer." 

The heavy officer looks tired and tips his hat to him without a word. Instead, he uses his flashlight to light through the windows of the car, taking a look in the passenger seat and backseat. 

"So where are you headed at this late hour?" 

Arthur pulls a lie. "Benedict point." 

"What's your business in Benedict?" 

"I'm visiting my brother at his ranch. He needed an extra hand, it being calving season and all."

"It's safer to drive during the day, mister. There's a dangerous man on the loose. No telling where he might be lurking." 

Arthur holds back a frown at the officer. "Well I was meaning to head there in the morning but my brother called me up an hour ago and said I needed to come right away, two of the beasts going into labor at the same time." 

The officer continues to examine the car. "Uh-huh. And what's your brother's name?" 

"John," Arthur says naturally and squints his eyes as he gets the light right in his face. 

"And what's _your_ name?" 

The officer merely seems to listen to his answers and the _way_ he answers. "Arthur Morgan."

Apparently, it's enough. The officer lowers the flashlight and smiles kindly. "Now. You know why I pulled you over, Arthur?" 

"No, officer." 

"I see… Would you please turn those car lights back on."

"What?" 

"Turn the lights back on." 

A confused and wary Arthur does, looking at the man for further instructions. 

The officer gestures with his fingers for Arthur to step out of the car. Arthur does and keeps his cool as he follows the officer to the rear of the car. 

The officer points. "You see that?" 

Arthur sighs by the tail light. "A broken bulb." 

"Uh-huh. It's easy to miss. You're gonna have to get it fixed." 

"You ain't giving me a ticket for _that,_ are you?" Arthur asks, sounding slightly irritated. 

The officer gives a brief chuckle, as if he's short on breath. "It ain't necessary." 

"I'll fix it first thing tomorrow, officer," Arthur assures. 

The officer grunts, pulling his pants up somewhere under his big hanging belly. "I bet you will." Then he lifts a finger, wanting to add something of importance. "Only… Something that most people don't realise, is that most of the times, they haven't gotten the bulb in place. You've got a light, but then you hit a bump and you _don't_ got a light."

Arthur raises a brow at the officer's relaxed explanation that sounds more like small talk. He imagines the cop bored of his work if he didn't even check his driver's license. 

"You know how to check if it's loose?" 

"Yeah," Arthur says. 

The officer lights at the trunk. "Go ahead." 

Arthur stares at him, smiling politely. "What, _now?"_

"Yeah, if that's the only problem, you would want to fix it before driving in the dark again. If it's not, _then_ you'll know for sure that the bulb's broken." 

"Look uuuh… I really need to get to my brother's," Arthur smiles apologetically. "He's… expecting me." 

"It'll only take a minute. Just open the trunk and I'll show you how it's done." 

Arthur doesn't know what to do to not sound rude or suspicious to the officer's otherwise kind offer. He prepares for a blood bath once more as he places his hand on the trunk lid and pushes the button to open it. He wants to tell the officer he's truly sorry for what's about to happen. 

"For fuck's sake," the officer suddenly exclaims as he gets a call on his radio. 

Arthur keeps his hand on the car, holding the lid down as the officer walks back to his own vehicle. 

Arthur looks down into the small opening with a neutral face as he listens to the call about someone stealing chickens again.

"I need to take this… Just check if the bulb is in place or not. Try not to touch the glass though," the officer calls to him from his car. "Goddamn thieves," he comments before he sits himself in the car and struggles with the seat belt. 

"I'll make sure to do that! Much appreciated, officer!" Arthur calls back and gives a wave of his hand as the man passes him. 

Arthur looks after the police car for a few moments. 

_"Good job, cowpoke!"_

Arthur's plastered smile dies down as he hears Micah’s muffled praise from inside the trunk. Without an expression on his face, he slams it to a shut without even checking on the man inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the timeline and plot is obviously not canon for shit, I've of course taken a bunch of freedoms. In this chapter, the clearest example is Dutch being the father of Arthur and John, who might or might not be biological brothers here. It's not so relevant, other than showing who Arthur cares about and what makes his choices concerning Micah so difficult for him. Sometimes I just think it's hard to make a character have a consistent motive throughout the story. I mean, it's human to change your mind in the course of a day, a week, or even hours. Arthur is kinda drawing between it all by now. 
> 
> Apologies for the slower update. I've been working a lot. Good news is this fic's basically finished, just need to edit the rest when I've got the time. I'll probably post the two remaining chapters with the same update next time. Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

21\. walk of 'worry' 

Arthur stops at the side of the road just outside Plainview. Making sure the coast is clear in front and behind him, he steps out of the car to open the trunk. 

Micah keeps Joe's gun aimed at anyone who opens. He lifts it away as he sees it's Arthur. 

"Comfortable?" 

"I can't feel my fucking ass," Micah informs from the tight space of the trunk. 

"You want me to wake it up?" Arthur comments dryly as he pulls him out of there. "I'd be happy to oblige." 

Micah stretches as soon as he's on the ground. "Arthur. Arthur. You're making me blush," he answers with a monotonous voice. "As irresistible as the offer is, I must decline." He brushes a hand over Arthur's arm and gives a short-lasting squeeze, like his mind is elsewhere. "Maybe later." Micah then closes the trunk, leaving the shotgun and pistol inside, along with the money. "I've got 1,5 million dollars I need to collect." He gives a meaningful look. "All by _myself_ ," he then adds. 

Arthur ignores the comment and gazes towards the town up ahead. He sees the 'Vacancy' sign even from there. "If you change your mind, I'll be at that motel over there, I suppose…" 

"I suppose so," the blonde says agreeingly. 

Arthur stares at Micah for a couple of seconds in silence, noticing an underlying acidity. "I'll uh, put a note under the door or something, so you can see which to knock on when you get back." 

Micah doesn't waste more time to sit himself in the vehicle and turn the keys. Arthur moves over to the side of the car, waiting for an answer. Both of them leaning their heads somewhat to see the other as they speak through the opened window at the passenger side. Micah raises his voice slightly over the running engine. " _Ooooor_ , you could just come _along_. The more, the merrier." 

Arthur snorts to that. "Like you said yourself. I've managed to stay under their radar my whole life. Think I prefer it to stay that way." 

"Pfft. That didn't exactly stop you from _taking_ _care_ of Joe the other night, _did_ it." 

"Well that was… different," Arthur points out with a close to soft voice. He doesn't elaborate. Doesn't want to. 

Micah raises an eyebrow, deciding not to comment on it but instead relish the unspoken meaning somehow. "C'moooon Arthur. Jooooin meee. We _won't_ get caught," he tries again. 

"Are you even listening to me? With all the other shit we pulled back in Armadillo, I'd prefer to sit this one out." Arthur almost spits it out, feeling himself close to losing his temper. He didn't feel like explaining himself _one_ more time by now. 

Micah sharpens his gaze by the other's tone. "Ooo-kay," he eventually accepts before he gestures idly at Arthur. "Hop in, I'll drive you." He cocks his head to the town. 

"I'll _walk_. It ain't exactly far." Arthur moves past the car and starts walking towards his stay for the night. 

Micah looks after the man a moment before he drives next to him in walking speed. "I reckon I'll be back before sunrise. Cleet was always scared shitless of me. He won't put up _nooo_ fight," he chuckles darkly and convinced of himself. 

"Yeah well. Don't get shot," Arthur calls out without emotion. He looks the other way, shaking his head close to unnoticeable. 

"Me? Never." 

Arthur ignores that one, too busy thinking about more important things than answer with some smart comment. 

"Aw, why the _sad_ face?" Micah teases as he notices something is clearly preoccupying Arthur's mind. 

"Ain't no sad face. I'm just fucking tired, Micah," Arthur explains. "We haven't slept all damn night and day."

"...Is it just me oryou got something that needs saying, cowpoke?" Micah presses on anyway, sensing the atmosphere like a clear smell of garbage in the air. 

Arthur halts with a heavy sigh and Micah breaks to a full stop. The younger eventually leans himself down with his arms resting in the window. He shrugs a shoulder with minor enthusiasm. "I've done some thinking and… You don't even _know_ if Cleet's got the money. He lives in a fucking trailer park, Micah."

"Joe said Cleet's got the money hidden close by where he lives. That was no lie, I would've smelt it."

"And he probably would've said anything you wanted to hear, 'specially with a gun pointed at his damn face. What if… What if _Joe_ had all the money, maybe he hid the rest someplace else, hm? You've got almost two _millions_ in your hand. That's _more_ than enough to start over."

"Meaning?" 

"I still think you should sit this one out..." Arthur says with a serious face. He wants to add, "and come back with me to the motel." Instead, he lowers his head an inch as if he's afraid the other can read his thoughts if staring at him for too long. 

Micah tilts his head, trying to figure Arthur out. "Joe and Cleet were _thick_ as _thieves_ back then. None of them would've outplayed the other like that." He clicks his tongue a couple of times, thinking. "No… Joe had half. _Meaning_ Cleet's got the _other_ half… It's simple - _they_ fucking split it. I know they did. After they sold me out, that is. Even if none of 'em would ever admit it out loud. But hey, why would they?" He is convinced, continuing to explain slowly as if he finds Arthur thickheaded. "… And it's _not_ about me _needing_ the money, Arthur. Noooo. It's about _him_ not getting to _keep_ it after doing me like that… It's about _me_ \- taking it." Micah shrugs a shoulder. "because I can," he huffs out a short chuckle.

Arthur releases a tense exhale through his nose. "Fine. Go at it. Get shot, get stabbed, get fucking arrested. I won't be coming to nooo rescue." 

Micah gasps deeply with exaggeration, pretending to be hurt by the man's words. He smiles broadly, looking intrigued almost. "What is up with you, Arthur? There's so much… _resentment_ , in your voice." The blonde persistently tries to provoke it out of him. 

Arthur won't let Micah get the pleasure of knowing. 

Micah all but drops his jaw when Arthur keeps his stubborn silence, as if he had find the _one_ answer. "Are you… are you _woooorried_ about me _?"_ He seems flattered, examining every detail of Arthur's body language. 

"Very funny." Arthur keeps a straight face. "Listen… I won't be there this time, Micah… And that's a _first_. You've _always_ been reckless and I've _always_ been stupid enough to clean up your mess… but not this time. Think this through. We're _this_ close to the border." Arthur urges and takes a step back from the car. He points a finger of warning at him. "Don't fuck up."

"You _knoooow_ I can deal with Cleet by myself… he's half my size, for Christ's saaake!" Micah once more rolls the car next to Arthur as the latter walks away. 

"Yeah, you're probably right…!" Arthur calls out without looking at the other, eager to get away from him. 

Micah couldn't let this one go. "Whyyyy do I feel like there's more?" 

"You're lost, Micah." 

"C'mooon. Tell me." 

"I've got nothing else to tell you." 

Scrutinizing eyes run over Arthur once again. Micah swallows. "You knooow. Everything would be a _lot_ easier if you'd just say _it_ out loud. What it is, that's _really_ bothering you. But no - you'd rather take one in the heart before doing that, wouldn't you?" Despite his choice of words, there isn't actually any malice in Micah’s voice. On the contrary, he seems upset with what the other chooses to hold back. 

Arthur halts again and breathes in deeply, hitting a familiar barrier about doing what the blonde asks of him. He leans down to the window once more and enjoys the attentive face of Micah, especially when he only gives a "Fuck you," with his exhale to the blonde. 

Micah isn't exactly disappointed but not impressed either. "Fuck meeee?" 

"Yeah. _Fuck you_." Arthur shoots himself away from the car and proceeds with walking but in a quicker pace, wanting to get Micah out of his sight more than ever. 

A roar of frustration leaves the blonde before he hits the pedal and leaves two long skid marks on the asphalt. 

22\. monologuing

"Fuck me… _Fuck me_. No, fuck you, Arthur." Micah laughs lowly to himself as he's sitting alone in the car, overlooking the trailer park below where Cleet allegedly lives. 

"Still acting like a little bitch, even after aaaall these years," he continues to mutter while contemplating what ticked Arthur off. Suspecting. _Knowing_. Both anxious and inexperienced in how to deal with what is clear as day. "Always pissed off and mad about fucking everything..." 

Micah snorts to himself, ending up thinking about where they both would be in less than 24 hours. He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth together tightly. He feels like punching someone. 

"I could've ratted you out. Could've ratted all of you out. But I didn't. Why? Because…" 

Micah quiets down and stares blankly in front of him. He laughs again. 

"After _all_ I've done for you. Was prepared to give you-"

Micah shuts up as he sees some new movement in the area; someone leaving a trailer and heading for a car. Micah smiles fully as he sees who it is. "Well isn't it my old pal." 

  
  


23\. same as it ever was 

Arthur is fast asleep by the time he hears the loud knocks on the door to his rented room. 

He shoots up with his guard up, his mind reaching clarity within seconds. Soundless, he gets up on his feet and sneaks to the door in the pitch black room. He looks through the peephole. 

Sighing, he unlocks the door and backs away, switching on the light by the bed as he returns there. 

Micah opens the door, carrying the heavy bag in one strong arm. Arthur doesn't look at him, instead he lies on top of the covers with crossed legs. Placing one arm under his head, he stares up at the ceiling. 

Micah’s eyes drift over Arthur's body. "There you are. All naked," he comments as he locks the door and walks over to the only closet in the room. He opens and examines it, deciding it's not good enough. "Just have to put it, fucking here, then." He drops down the bag on the floor in the furthermost corner - below the side of the bed he supposes he would sleep on. 

"Yeah well, I took a shower," Arthur explains as he places a cigarette between his lips to light. 

"I can see that." 

"And so should you." 

"Is that the polite way of telling me I smell bad?" 

"You _do,_ smell bad." 

Micah grins at him, enjoying the insult. 

Arthur looks at the clock. "You're back soon," he states, seeing it hadn't been more than two and a half hours. 

"Uh-huh." Micah starts to undress, moving into the bathroom to turn the shower on. "I can see how _happy_ you are about that." 

Arthur ignores his sarcasm and keeps smoking, his eyes now glued to the blonde's naked skin in the pale light of the bathroom lamps as Micah doesn't bother with closing the door. 

Micah is about to enter the shower before he changes his mind and merely stands still for a few seconds as if he had forgotten something. He then looks back at Arthur. Without a word, he walks with purpose back to the side of the bed. Lifting up the bag of money, he gives a grin full of himself to Arthur who only huffs at the gesture of mistrust. 

"You're serious right now…? You _think_ I'd take the money…? Ditch you while you're in the fucking shower?" 

"Can you blame me? Given I don't know what the hell you want." 

"What the hell's your fucking problem, Micah?" 

"Shut your mouth. _Please_." Micah brings the bag along with him to the bathroom and locks the door. 

Arthur rests his eyes with cigarette in mouth. Sensing he wouldn't fall asleep again, he sits up with feet to the floor. 

>>>

He's on his third smoke when Micah is finished showering. 

Actually _trying_ to dry his hair properly with the towel this time, Micah doesn't drip water all over the floor. He walks over to the other man. 

Outwardly, Arthur is calm but he fights the urge to give in to a restless leg. "So. What did Cleet have to say for himself anyways?" Arthur eventually asks, giving a short glance up at Micah who stands in front of him and steals the hundredth cigarette from Arthur's packs by now. 

Micah speaks with the unlit cigarette between his lips, making it bob wildly. He lifts his hands, gesturing with them along with his sentences. "Oh you know, what they _always_ say - 'I made a mistake'... 'he was the one to turn you in… bla bla bla'... and then he tried with - 'Joe talked me into it…' That one made me real _mad,_ I tell ya _."_

"I can imagine," Arthur sighs. 

Micah clicks his fingers one time. "It was more… _fun_ when he started begging though…" He looks into the wall beyond Arthur's head as if reminiscing. 'Please don't kill me'...'please, Micah, please don't rape me'." 

Arthur’s eyes shoot up to meet Micah’s right away.

Micah gazes down at Arthur with pursed lips, as if he's excited to take in the man's reaction. 

Arthur is not amused in the slightest.

"...I was _joking_ ," Micah explains when he is met by dead seriousness. 

Arthur takes a deep but hasteful drag from his cigarette. Almost aggressively, he then puts it out in the ashtray placed on the nightstand. "Well you ain't that funny, Micah."

Micah’s head goes slack for a second before he holds it upright again. "Uuuuugh, _why_ are you so fucking angry with me?" he growls frustrated, not keen on the other's behavior ever since they'd left Gaptooth station. 

Arthur is actually surprised by the question, or more by the effect he has on the blonde. 

Micah throws the unlit cigarette aside, not craving it anymore. "It's our laaast goddamn night, Arthur…!" He states mildly desperate. 

Arthur is close to flinching by that, feeling his cheeks burn up in an instant. "Don't you think I know that??" 

"Then why don't you cheer _up_ , _cowpoke_ , 'cause you'll get rid of my _sorry_ _ass_ fucking once and for aaall. Ain't that what you wanted all along? Or did something happen along the way, hm??" Micah shoves at Arthur's shoulder several times, making the latter rest his eyes and breathe deeply as to not explode. Micah swallows before deciding to take a risk for the sake of hitting the other hard. "One might think you're _in_ _love_ with me," he shoots out with almost disgust. "Aaaaand we don't want _that_ , _do we_ now...?" 

Arthur shakes his head to himself and rubs a frustrated hand over his eyebrow, his power crumbling in an instant. "I… uh…"

"You, _uuuh_ , what, _uuuh?"_ Micah mocks when Arthur isn't able to find the right words. 

It causes Arthur to glare dangerously. "You've always been a huge fucking asshole, you know that?" he speaks with a present venom in his voice. "It's damn near impossible to speak with you." 

"Yeeeees, Arthur, I _knooow_. But _so_ , _are,_ _you_." Micah pokes his finger at Arthur's shoulder with every word. "You ain't perfect." 

Believing Arthur would punch him or try to break his arm again, Micah is ready to strike first this time. He's more than wary as Arthur starts to laugh tiredly instead, Micah believing it to be some way of making him let his guard down. "Oh. Is something _funny_ now _,_ Arthur?" He can no longer conceal his bitterness. 

"Wha... What the hell are we doing here, Micah…?" Arthur breathes out with the low laugh after some time. 

Micah is actually taken aback, furrowing a brow. "What do you mean?" he asks quickly, darting his eyes to the side before looking at him again. 

"We're fighting like some fucking married couple who's despised each other for years. I don't remember us doing that before. It's ridiculous." 

Micah exhales deeply. He sits himself next to Arthur after a few long moments, feeling forced to talk of something he had no idea how to even address. "That’s 'cause your uuuh - _memory_ \- is useless. We've always done uhm." With little effort, he gestures several times at himself and then at Arthur with his hand. "... _this_. _Then_ we… Then we fuck." 

"Oh really?" 

"Well...Yeah. Most of the time. No - _al_ _l_ of the time." Micah then makes a familiar expression, informing he's more than up for it, despite the heated feelings hanging over them. 

Arthur immediately frowns by that. "Nah-uh. We ain't fucking tonight." 

"But I promised I'd suck your dick," Micah reminds with a sneaky smile, as if he'd forgotten all about their current argument. Then again, he'd never been particularly resentful when there's a more joyful solution within reach. 

Arthur only now remembers their conversation before Armadillo, briefly thinking Micah might be right about his useless memory. 

Arthur also realises Micah isn't joking when he plants a hand on his thigh, twisting his torso and leaning in slightly. 

Arthur smiles, moving away an inch from the ensuing kiss. "Oh-ho no. That's a baaad idea." His rejection comes out half-hearted. Knowing they shouldn't fuck, knowing that he wanted nothing else. 

"Oh _yeees_." Micah gives a small squeeze with his hand and moves closer to not let Arthur escape. "Or you expect me to suck you off from the other side of the San Luis, hm? _Me_ in Mexico, _you_ in the states?" the blonde jokes, nodding to left and then to the right by the mention of each country. His voice turns to a whisper and his eyes sparkle. "Mm. That shit's gonna be tough, 'cause you _gotta_ admit… your dick ain't _that_ big." 

Arthur punches Micah in his side, making him cough out from the sudden blow. 

"I didn't… quite, hear you, Micah." Arthur teases through his teeth as he wrestles Micah down on the mattress when the blonde's incapacitated. "What did you say, hm?" he asks as he locks Micah’s wrists down on either side of his head, knowing that if the laughing blonde wanted to put up a fight, Arthur _would_ get himself a fight. None of them weaker than the other, their play of dominance had to be fought for without end. In the back of his head, he knows that the only reason he is capable of doing this, is because Micah _lets_ him. 

Micah both growls and laughs from the sharp pain but enjoys it immensely at the same time, mostly because it's Arthur dealing it out. "I said I wanted to choke on your _big_ _fat_ cock," he spits out to the man looming over him and emphasizes his desire by moving his hips to wake Arthur's half hard cock. 

"Oh I'm expecting a whole more than that, Micah," Arthur tells him with an old familiar lust and lets go of the blonde's wrists. He brushes his palm over Micah’s hip until he buries his hand under his ass to press their growing erections harder against each other's. 

Micah seems intrigued by the bad joke that works equally as a promise Arthur would keep. "Mm, c'meeere," Micah purs and pulls Arthur down to him. They smile into the slow kiss.

24\. fucking-motel

It's one of the few times they're completely naked while having sex. Micah had always preferred to keep the clothes _on,_ one time drunkenly joking on his own behalf that he didn't have a body like Burt Reynolds. Arthur had stored that one in his memory. Thinking only to himself that - no - he definitely didn't, but it didn't make him feel any less good. He thinks about it in the moment and how he'd never share this thought with the man. 

Arthur lifts Micah’s leg aside for better access with a exploring hand as he very slowly rolls his hips to move in and out. Sharing a few equally slow kisses at the same time, they both are silent enough to hear how unfamiliar it is to touch like they did - soft moans and trembling breaths filling that night. 

Micah seems to relax fully, although he'd never make much fuss with taking it in the ass. Trying to make Arthur believe he's a tough bastard, Arthur is convinced it's got more to do with Micah actually getting off on the pain he's making sure the blonde would get from the minor preparation. 

A couple of minutes later, they both draw short breaths as Arthur fucks the blonde fast enough to make the headboard of the bed bang into the wall. 

_"Shuuuut the fuuuuck uuuup!"_ yells a furious and crazed voice from the room next to theirs. 

Arthur laughs without a sound as he sinks his head into Micah’s shoulder and fucks even louder just because he can and his cock feels like it. 

_"It's three in the GODDAMN_ MOOORNIIING!" 

"And this is a FUCKING-MOTEL!" Micah growls back to the wall behind and above his head as Arthur slaps into him. In return, he gets a few bangs in the wall from a furious fist on the other side. "Aaaargh! You fucking-" Micah is abruptly silenced by Arthur planting his palm over his mouth. 

"Sh-shut _up_ , Micah-" Arthur laughs in a hurried whisper, feeling genuine joy in the moment. Feeling fifteen years younger and less troubled again. "I don't want you… starting something… like you _always_ do with the wrong people…" He slows down with his hips and lifts his hand away from Micah’s mouth, replacing it with an unrushed kiss. "...What if he…" Arthur lets out breathy moans into him between his sentences. "...barges in here… to beat the hell out of ya…" 

Micah caresses his thumb over Arthur's chin as they still move in unison, breathing his words out with each time Arthur’s cock presses on his prostate. "...you'd enjoy… th-that… wouldn't you..?" 

"...of course I would… Although… I'd prefer to… keep ya in bed… with me…" Arthur closes his eyes as Micah’s hands move over his ass, pushing him down to get even deeper inside each time he bottoms. Arthur stops there and rolls his hips lightly, making both of them groan from their core by the overwhelming stimulation. 

_"Fucking faggots!"_

They both sigh by the distraction and pauses for a few seconds. 

Micah presses his lips to the other's ear. "...shit, I think he's onto us, Arthur…" he whispers. 

"Mmm… _Whateeever_ should we do...?" Arthur smiles as Micah bites at his earlobe, sending sweet shivers through his body. 

"...you might… have to make a few _noises…_ so he believes… you're a… woman..."

Arthur grins to the absurd suggestion as he moves down to brush his lips over Micah’s chest, pulling himself out while he does. 

Micah’s gaze follows him when Arthur licks over his nipple in circular motions before nibbling and sucking on it until it hardens. "Playtime over already?" the blonde asks while brushing his fingers through Arthur's hair. 

Arthur shakes his head as he kisses his way further south. "My cock's a bit sore," he informs truthfully. "I could use a small break… and I think I'll be useful… elsewhere." He gives a dirty smile before he starts stroking Micah’s half hard length. 

"I like where this is going." 

"I know you do," Arthur answers before he takes him in his mouth with a provocative look. 

Having been close to come a hundred times already, the concentrated pleasure from Arthur's enthusiasm is enough to drive Micah wild. 

Micah watches Arthur bob his head, getting the blonde fully erect in mere seconds to fill up his wet and warm mouth that seems hungry for more. Micah could give him more. 

The blonde guides Arthur’s head away from his cock by grabbing him by the chin. "What're you-" Arthur isn't able to say more as the blonde easily switches their positions. Being pushed aside with force, Arthur lands on his side on the soft mattress, his whole body bouncing up and down one or two times. "Wha-" 

"Stay like that, you dog," Micah orders a perplexed Arthur as Micah gets up to sit on his heels next to his face. Arthur looks up at him with expectation as the blonde guides his hard length to his mouth anew.

Using the new position to his advantage, Micah holds Arthur's lifted head and presses the tip of his cock past Arthur’s kiss-swollen and welcoming lips and starts moving his hips.

Getting immediately and properly fucked in the mouth, Arthur looks up at the blonde with almost shocked eyes by the sudden change of atmosphere but he is just as excited by the dominant gesture. His neck is bent in an uncomfortable angle and he almost chokes on Micah’s thick cock taking his freedom. 

"Look at that… " Micah holds Arthur's head and works up a speed that makes the other breathe in uneven bursts through his nose. 

Wet sounds fill the room by the sloppy but most intense blowjob Micah had experienced with Arthur. The latter uses his lips and tongue as best he can with the relentless pace. 

Micah can feel Arthur’s throat almost cramp around his tip as he _tries_ to swallow around him. Micah fucking him as deep as he can with this angle, Arthur’s stubbornness is the one thing keeping him from retching. At the same time, Arthur feels like his own cock is going to explode. He takes himself in hand and starts stroking close to aggressively. 

"...taking _whatever_ you can get… before it's too late..." Meant as teasing, Arthur can't help but notice some contempt in the words he barely hears from how fast everything else goes. "Before I finally… leave you… for good." 

Arthur tenses slightly but keeps taking him. Micah sees the tears escape Arthur's now closed eyes as his gag reflex starts kicking in, making his chest heave and some guttural sounds to escape him. 

Micah pets Arthur's head with what he considers as affection. "...you know, we could've had something, Arthur… We _did…_ have _something…_ right? And now you're gonna… throw it all away." 

Arthur tries to pull away from him by those words but Micah guides his head back in an instant. When Micah grips a good chunk of his hair, Arthur growls in either pain or excitement as Micah all but forces himself back inside his mouth. 

Arthur feels a rush in his body by the determined and selfish gesture from the blonde, getting off on Micah getting off by the power Arthur grants him. 

Micah can both feel and hear Arthur's moans as the other moves his hand from his own cock to grab at Micah’s moving hip as if he's urging him to finish.

He'll finish alright and make the best of it one final time. 

Micah starts groaning when Arthur gazes up at him with a pleading but at the same time bold look. Seeing and feeling the pleasure he provides just for him, it's enough to get closer and closer. "Such a… _good boy_ you are," Micah pants before he abruptly pulls out. Arthur keeps his eyes fixated on Micah’s cock as the blonde strokes himself in short drags until he shoots his load in all of Arthur's face. Hot strands of cum are spilled across his forehead and on his cheek, only to spurt thickly over his trembling and spit-wet lips. 

Before Arthur knows it, he's shoved to his back and by now, he's too taken aback to object. The fresh cum runs down and burns in his right eye as he feels Micah sits down and fucks himself on Arthur’s thick and exploding erection. The raw pleasure is almost hurting. 

Arthur can only take it. It becomes too much and in the end, he's overwhelmed with the many sensations in his body. As a result of the blonde's degrading act, Arthur is the one to switch their positions the final time. Grabbing him with both hands, Arthur throws Micah off him only to press him down to the mattress. Returning to their first position to be the one on top, Arthur spreads the blonde's legs and penetrates him the last time that night. 

As long as Arthur could remember, Micah never really lost control of himself or his body. This was no different. Arthur knows the other is enjoying the sex, but he never got completely lost in it. Arthur doesn't know if he envies him for that as he himself gets consumed by it. 

Both panting as some sort of competition of who could do it the loudest, Arthur feels close. He sees Micah’s cum drip down from his face to the blonde's own face and it's enough to make him finish inside the other. He relishes in it, taking his time. Deeply and slowly. 

Them using no protection this time, Arthur can eventually feel his cum escape the tight space to slick his length up further as he makes the last few drawn out pumps with his oversensitive cock. 

He believes he's gonna pass out afterwards. 

Arthur pulls out and crashes on top of Micah who isn't slow to hold his arms around him and press their sweaty bodies together. Lying like that until their breathing returns to normal, none becomes the first to pull away. 

Arthur shuts his eyes as he feels Micah plant a relaxed kiss on the side of his head. "What the hell's wrong with you…?" Arthur asks, referring to the blonde's unnecessary comments during their sex. 

Micah brushes his lips over Arthur's hair, staring absently up at the ceiling. "I don't know what you're talking about," he whispers and gives a grin Arthur can't see. 

Arthur remains silent, feeling incapable of pressing on and get the words out. As if there's some invisible wall he again can't move past. 

He'd never wanted to keep and kill someone this much in his life. To get rid of but also _be_ _with_ in equal measures. He can feel the blonde's sperm dry in on his skin and he wonders if he'd ever get rid of the sensation after he'd washed it off. 

Micah lets his fingertips move over Arthur's smooth back, remembering he'd enjoyed it before. In a life less complicated. 

Arthur takes a deep breath. "What are we to each other, really?" 

Micah’s hand stops for a few seconds. He moves his palm instead over the skin, brushing impersonally. "Yes. What are we to each other, Arthur?" 

When no one is willing or capable to say, they fall asleep without an answer to the question.


	8. Chapter 8

25\. Mehico or hell

After making the last few necessary purchases the next day, Arthur anxiously smokes one cigarette after the other. Sitting in the vehicle that Micah stubbornly claims he'd in fact bought without harming anyone, they take in the grim view of the San Luis River beneath them. 

Seeing the massive and sturdy Frontera bridge in the distance west from their vantage point, it's easy to get second thoughts. 

The bridge being the easiest way to cross legally, Micah would have to do it the most dangerous and _illegal_ way. From their high ground, his blue eyes search along the river bank on American soil, guard patrols moving along it to prevent anyone getting out, anyone getting in, the wrong way.

They can see the white sand of Mexico clearly on the other side. 

"Less than a mile away, my freedom." 

"Mm." 

"You think it's gonna work, Arthur?" 

"I have no clue. I've never done something like this before." Arthur breathes out smoke through his nostrils as he counts the patrolling men, fewer at this particular spot. Having parked at the side of the road, a steep slope is the only way down to the river except the paved road to the bridge in the far distance. "It _has_ to work." 

He and Micah sit in the sundown, sharing their last few hours in a silence unusual for them. Just waiting. None willing to speak of the obvious problems between them. 

>>>

After making a check in the trunk, a regretful Arthur returns to the driver's seat and looks at a sleeping Micah as the clock strikes midnight. The blonde's got his hat covered over his face, his head leaning against the window. 

Arthur merely observes the other in silence. Feeling like shit all day, he finally reaches out a hand to shake Micah awake. 

"Get your fingers off me, I'm awake," Micah states before Arthur's hand even lands on him. 

Arthur retreats, resting his hand on the steering wheel again. "It's time," he informs seriously. 

Micah sits up straight and stretches his neck, creating a few cracking sounds. He grunts by the sensation he enjoys. 

Arthur doesn't say anything when Micah doesn't. Not when the blonde moves out of the car without a glance at him. Arthur sighs and follows him outside. 

Micah looks down the steep slope. Somewhat hard to see in the darkness, he checks the route he would have to take to get down there safely and discreetly. 

Micah opens the trunk and lifts the heavy waterproof bag up to wrap over a shoulder. Having spent an hour to protect the money in vacuum sealed bags within it, he couldn't do more but hope it would be enough. His eyes linger for a few long seconds at the lone shotgun lying in the trunk. He pretends to not notice the handgun isn't there with it. He nods to himself unnoticeably, realising how it was gonna be. He makes a split decision to not pick up the shotgun. 

Arthur observes him, raising a brow as Micah actually leaves the weapon behind. 

"Can't wait to get these off," a reserved Micah comments plainly, referring to the all-black clothes on his body. "Ain't my color," he adds. He sounds nothing like himself, Arthur can't help but think. 

Arthur moves past him and rummages through the stuff in the trunk. He picks up and shoves the dark life vest to the blonde's chest. "Wait until you get to the other side first, yeah?" he drawls under the bobbing cigarette between his lips. 

Micah grabs the vest and looks it over with scepticism. "I was always a good swimmer, Morgan." 

"Yeah well… good swimmer or not, that bag of yours ain't exactly light," Arthur points out and walks past the car to sit against the hood, looking down at the water in the distance. "3.2-million-dollars-heavy it is, after all…" he says quietly as he leans back slightly with arms behind him. He glances back at Micah, prepared to watch his every move even though he's not in his eyesight by now. The blonde isn't stupid and he doesn't know why they continue to tiptoe around it. 

The blonde shuts the trunk and walks slowly to stand to look at the moving figures below in the size of ants from their spot. "This is it, huh," Micah states, more to himself. 

"Yep," Arthur sighs, looking at the man from the corner of his eye. 

Arthur curses internally by his decision he doesn't know if he'll regret or accept. One that had been filled with excruciating dilemmas for the last couple of days. He lowers his head as he reaches behind him, bringing out the gun tucked inside his belt. 

"Before you go, Micah… You've got something I want." 

Micah readjusts his white hat on his head, his blonde locks now hanging freely over his shoulders as he glances behind him without surprise. He half smiles even before he sees him. "You plan on shooting me, Arthur?" he asks with watchful eyes as he sees the gun pointed at him. "Or just taking the money and let me live? Hm?" 

Arthur doesn't break eye contact but his fingers move with purpose over the grip as he keeps a relaxed aim at the blonde. 

"I'd say you've got…" Micah looks at the distance from below to their spot. "three minutes, give or take, before them guards manage to get up here after they hear the shot." Micah then gestures a hand at his unarmed body. "And I've got nothing on me. 'Cause if I _had -_ you'd never win." 

"No. You _don't_ ," Arthur confirms. "And no, I probably wouldn't." 

"You could blow my head off and walk away." 

Arthur inhales deeply on his smoke. "It's nothing personal. I just want that money." 

Micah chuckles. "What made you change your mind, cowpoke? Or was this your plan all along - as I suspected?" 

Arthur raises a brow after some time at the recurring doubt between them the last week. "A phone call." 

"Ah. A phone call. Whatever you say." Micah doesn't believe it to be the whole truth. He raises his chin, his eyes smiling, despite after learning what he believes are Arthur's true intentions from the start. "Oh, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur…" He turns to look towards Mexico, seeming to be filled with something like serenity. "I always knew it was too good to be true. You did a good job of _trying_ to fool me though. I'll give you that. At one point, I actually thought you wanted to help me because I meant at least something to you." 

Arthur lowers his gaze, avoiding to answer that. "Those money ain't yours. Not all of it, anyhow. You _chose_ to keep them a secret to _me._ To the rest of us. Ready to take off with them as soon as you'd gotten your dirty hands on them again. So I ask you - how did you think this would end, Micah?" Arthur's voice is calm but with an underlying sadness in it of their situation. 

"I…" Micah side eyes him but chooses to not finish the sentence. Instead he seriously lifts the bag up from the dusty ground. He clears his throat but doesn't say anything. It's a rare experience for the other. 

"Don't worry. I just want _half_ ," Arthur informs. "Unlike you, I only take what I _need_."

"Half, huh." Micah keeps a broad smile on his face the whole time as he places the bag on the hood with a loud thud. He works it open and brings up a few bundles of cash to place on the hood. Then he prepares to close the bag again. 

"The hell are you doing?" Arthur questions as the blonde only gives him 100.000.

Micah weighs the bag meaningfully in his hand. "This wasn't 3.2 million-dollars-heavy, cowpoke," he informs. "Was more like 1,7 million-dollars-light." 

Arthur glances quickly down at the bag before pulling it firmly away from the blonde. 

A confused Arthur stands up. "Back the fuck away," he orders. A laughing Micah does as Arthur counts undisturbed, eventually lifting the bundles on the bottom as if he expects the bag to be bottomless. He takes a step back as he thinks. Thinks and thinks. He lolls his head back and a tired chuckle leaves him. "What the _heeell_ have you done, Micah? Where's the rest of it?" 

Micah turns around to him, preparing to give him a perfectly thorough explanation. He taps a finger to his chin and nods to himself as he thinks on it. "After locating Cleeeet, I drove around for a couple of hours in the dark last night, _thinking_." 

Arthur breathes deeply as he slides the bag away from him, not knowing what he expects to hear anymore. He absently aims the weapon at Micah as he ponders what to do. He listens to the other with a lowered head but with steady eye contact. 

"...And I realised that no matter hoooow muuuch you'd try and dodge my inquiries, no matter how much you'd say you wasn't in it for the money - I couldn't possibly trust you. I knew that no matter what you said, you'd still try and take the money, Arthur. I uh, wouldn't expect anything _else_ from you after all the shit I did. Wouldn't expect anything else from _anyone_."

"Well you _did_ have it coming, Micah, so I can imagine it wasn't _that_ hard to figure out. And if you'd been smart, you would've left me in the morning and taken your precious bag with ya. Taken your chances at it alone." Arthur gestures at him and the river with the weapon. 

" _Wait_. You don't think you'd have that gun in your hand if I hadn't let you - have it in your hand, _do you?_ Oh-ho no… Oh no, cowpoke."

Arthur’s face is impossible to read.

"If swinging that gun gets you off, then _good,_ fooor, you. But the truth iiis - you could've just… _asked_ me." 

Arthur’s expression is one of pure scepticism. " _Asked_ you?" 

Micah darts his eyes to the right and back to him. "Uh-huh," he answers, simply. 

Arthur is actually tempted to shoot him by the mere irritation he could be sometimes. "If you wouldn't mind, speaking in fuckin-" 

_"_ You _alreeeeady_ have _your_ money, Arthur. You just need to… fuckin' go and collect it," Micah explains. " 'Cause I ain't doing that all by myself. Oh no. Not even for your sweet ass." 

"...Pfft. The fuck you mean?" 

"I _said_ I drove around after _locating_ Cleet. And that waaaas _it_. I _never_ knocked at his door or paid him a visit. I said to myself it wasn't worth the _hassle_ if you'd just take the money from me anyway. So if you want your money, you'll have to go get it _yourself_." 

Arthur doesn't follow. "Why the _hell_ would you _let_ me take it?" he shoots out, gesturing wildly at him with the weapon.

"...Why _wouldn't_ I?" 

" _What?"_ Arthur spits out in confusion but has too many questions for the next one to wait. "do you _even_ know if Cleet's got those money?" 

"My guts says he does and that enough for me," Micah says without worry. 

"Well it _ain't_ for me. Goddammit, Micah…" Arthur rubs a hand at the back of his head. 

"Relax. They'll be there. Cleet always had a good way with money, he's probably invested it in some titty bar just like Joe."

"What if he's got zero?" 

"Not _my_ problem, Arthur. You'd known for sure if you'd just come along last night. Now, I guess you'll just have to take your chances, won't you. _That_ or kill me on the spot, take this bag right here." 

Arthur looks down at the bag and then up at Micah who meets him with a content smile. 

Arthur sighs, not even mad anymore. "...Why are you doing this?" 

"I don't need a reason for doing it." 

Arthur shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't believe you." 

Micah takes a few slow steps towards Arthur, not stopping until standing inches away from him. "Look. That half was _always_ yours, Arthur. Even six years ago." 

Arthur huffs in continued disbelief. He nods his chin at him. "You said you'd split the money in _three_ and I sure as hell weren't one of the lucky ones."

A breathy chuckle leaves Micah. "You think I would've split the money with those… Those two _idiots?_ With Cleet and Joe? Pfft, the hell I would… Nooo, I was planning on getting rid of them as soon as I met up with them back then. I'd give _you_ half of the money before I left, whether you came with or not." 

Arthur looks all over Micah’s face, trying to read the lie or truth. This time, he can feel in his bone it's actually the last for once. In the back of his head, he thinks the words could be pretty romantic if it hadn't been for Micah’s ungraceful way of spilling them out. 

Micah sighs tiredly. "Same as nooow… you'll get your half _either_ waaay. So relax." He rolls his hand to his confession, furrowing his brows deeply as if he doesn't really want to say it out loud. 

"Then why did you say I had to join you in-" 

"Oh I was just curious to see if you'd follow me to Mexico or not. And of coooourse you _wouldn't_ \- just like I knew you wouldn't six years ago either. You was always too stubborn to leave your miserable and boring life behind." 

Arthur’s gaze sinks the instant Micah’s claim is uttered. He lowers the weapon and points it elsewhere than on Micah. 

The blonde takes the opportunity to catch the hem of Arthur's shirt between his fingers, tugging lightly as if he was looking the type of fabric over. 

"Why?" Arthur asks quietly. "Why do all that for me?" He thinks it isn't like Micah, doing something without wanting something else in return. 

" _Whyyy?_ " Micah snorts. He then becomes very serious. "...Same reason you didn't think twice on killing Joe back in Armadillo." The blonde doesn't lower his head. Doesn't avert his gaze or tries to escape the other in any way. "Same reason you didn't ditch me afterwards even though you could." 

Arthur doesn't say anything to the subtle confession. "What did you expect me to do? Hm? It doesn't have to mean anything," he says instead. 

"But it does mean _something_ , doesn't it? C'moooon… Get your head outta your ass, Morgan. And then you tell _me_ what we are to each other." 

Arthur doesn't know how to. 

"I told you. Everything would be a lot easier if you just said what's on your mind - out loud."

The barrier is there again. The one that Arthur couldn't move past as much as Micah couldn't. Seeing the blonde _try,_ Arthur finally realises he had to as well. 

"Yesterday… I wanted to tell you how pissed I was that you'd rather go after Cleet than spending the last time we had, with _me_. And I'm pretty fucking pissed about you having to go to Mexico when we've just been apart six fucking years," Arthur forces out and nods to his confession, for once not trying to make it seem like anything else. He feels a weight leaving his chest and he figures he might as well tell the other everything. 

Micah grips his shirt harder, pulling him slightly towards his own body. 

"I wanted to say I've missed you without having a single clue of _why_. You're a goddamn liar and a traitor and I should hate your fucking guts. But I can't." 

Micah tilts his head, looking pleased with getting the words out of the other. "See? That wasn't so hard, _was_ it?" 

It was. 

It's dead silent for what feels like several long minutes. 

"I don't think our…" Micah glances at another direction, thinking about the correct word. " _communication_ is working all that good."

"I don't think either," Arthur huffs out, agreeing. 

Micah gives a faint smile while looking at him. "Too bad we won't be able to work on it." 

Arthur looks towards Mexico and back at the blonde, accepting how it has to be. "Yeah," he answers with a low voice. "You've got your new life waiting and all." He raises a brow. "Cowpoke."

Micah narrows his eyes at him to that. His gaze lingers on Arthur's lips for some time before he leans away, not wanting to drag the moment on more than necessary. With a deep sigh, he lets go of Arthur without thinking about it too much. "Yes, I do… and I better get going… " He grabs the bag and life vest with no rush. 

Arthur nods his lowered head as Micah prepares to leave. 

"If you're still helping me with that noise, that is?" 

" 'Course. What else would you do without me, Micah?" 

"I… I suppose I'll have to figure that one out on the other side." 

"I suppose so…" Arthur swallows and looks after the other as he eventually walks off to begin his descent further away. "Hey, Micah." 

The blonde halts and looks back. "What?" 

"You'd really would've snitched on me? 'Bout my past?" 

Micah holds his arms out in an ambiguous manner. "Desperate men make desperate decisions." 

Arthur accepts the answer and heads for his next, last question. He cocks his chin at the bag in Micah’s hand. "What if I'd wanted _all_ the money?" 

Micah doesn't think about it too long, as if the thought had crossed his mind more than a hundred times. "You wouldn't leave me with nothing."

Arthur smirks. "Now, I'm starting to think maybe I _should_ ," he teases. 

Micah looks down at the weapon in Arthur's hand for a second, then he smiles wildly up to his eyes. "Oh no. You like me _waaay_ too much to do that," he calls back before turning away to finally leave. "See you in Me-hi-co or in hell, Arthur Morgan. I don't know what is worse!" 

It's the last thing Arthur hears from Micah. He stares after him the whole time, until the blonde disappears through various trees and bushes growing down the self made path down the long slope. 

He walks back to the car and wastes no time to drive from there to overlook the Frontera bridge instead. 

>>>

Sitting in the car and placing it in neutral on the plain ground, Arthur steps out. Lifting the jerrycan from the ground, he doesn't waste time with unscrewing the can and pour the liquid over the whole inside of the car. He relishes in the smell of gasoline while he does. Tossing the can inside through the opened window, he takes a couple of steps back before he flicks a lighter. 

Without hesitation, he throws it inside the car as well and watches the instant flames burn up. He walks to the rear and starts pushing the car across the edge. He can see flashlights now directed upwards from the below ground, switched on in the apparent confusion that must've hit the patrolling guards by the sight of the sudden fire from the high ground. 

It's noisy alright when the vehicle hits the steep slope to roll and bump dangerously down straight towards the bridge. 

Before disappearing in the darkness, Arthur glances one last time at the other part of the river in the distance, hoping the distraction would be enough to give Micah a chance. 

26\. the reason

Stepping out of the cab and walking the last bit up to the property, Arthur puts down the heavy bag from someone now _less_ fortunate named Cleet before he looks at the note in his hand again. With Micah’s crooked handwriting, the name and address to a certain Mavis Chambers fills the paper along with a few sentences. 

_"I hear she's a widow. Which I know_

_you've got a thing for."_

In his head, Arthur can _hear_ Micah say those written words to him. 

_"Jokes aside. She's got your beloved_

_pickup. The keys will be in it._

_-M"_

Micah had insisted on getting rid of the pickup for him, telling him it was best if Arthur didn't come along in case they'd be caught while driving the vehicle. So finding the note in his pocket the morning after Micah’s departure had been a pleasant surprise. 

Arthur had stayed at the motel for a couple of days more. Keeping the radio on to listen to any news about Micah’s capture. Having heard none, other than the confirmation that Micah Bell had switched cars following a report from a woman up in Tumbleweed. Claiming her car got stolen from a man looking like him, the police had suspected he'd fled to Mexico, given the same car had been set fire to and sent down the river. Fortunately no one had gotten hurt in the turmoil. 

Arthur figures they must've forgotten about his pickup as he stands in front of it, the search for Micah Bell being wrapped up by now. 

Arthur opens the door to the vehicle and the keys are still in it alright. He takes in the feeling, happy over Micah’s last gesture. 

He looks towards the small house but notices no movement in the windows or people moving about on the property. He starts the engine. 

>>>

Arthur curses to himself as he sees the closest shop in Tumbleweed is closed. 

_"CLOSED DUE TO A WELL-NEEDED VACATION"_

The note on the glass door reads and he notices it's counting from today's date to a whole _month_ forth. He puts the last cigarette from his pack between his lips, thinking he needed to buy new ones elsewhere. 

He glances up the name of the shop, preparing to turn away. Then he looks at the big letters again. 'Chambers & Chambers,' it says. "Huh," he mumbles, thinking about the name on the note. 

>>>

During the following days, Arthur drives home without taking the view in of the various landscapes surrounding him. 

Making minimal stops except for filling up the tank and sleep at various motels, he's back home before he knows it. The road back always feels faster, he couldn't help but think. 

Having two days left of his vacation, he wastes no time to freshen up and take a well needed and long shower. 

Switching to his own number plate, he makes the hour long drive to John's small ranch and is instantly met by Copper and a barking Rufus running freely on the land that the younger man owns. 

Arthur smiles with a lowered head as Abigail Marston walks out on the porch with her arms on her waist, conveying her loud feelings through her body language. 

"Arthur Morgan! _About time_ you paid us a _damn_ visit!" she hollers as Arthur makes his way to her. 

"Oh I'm sorry, Abigail, I-" 

"Uncle Arthur!" Jack shoots past her, running out of the house with chaotic steps. 

"C'meeeere…!" Arthur drops the bag and kneels to open his arms for the incoming embrace. Jack all but crashes into his chest and Arthur lifts him up. "You're getting heavy, boy," he says with a higher pitched voice and leans his head back to take a proper look at the child in his arms. He carries him easily with one arm under him and grabs the bag with his free hand. 

Both Rufus and Cooper are eager to let Arthur know they exist and with wagging tails, they almost make the man trip over them as they flock around his legs. 

Abigail doesn't seem so displeased with Arthur after seeing her son so happy. She takes a few quick steps towards the corral at the back of the house. "John Marston! You stop what you're doing RIGHT NOW and you get your ass back here!" 

Arthur laughs slightly at the woman's intensity. He looks at Jack who lifts Arthur's hat off his head to put on his own. It's far too big and Jack has to lift his chin up to be able to see from under the brim. "Suits you," Arthur comments. He looks over Jack's head and sees a dusty John emerge, his nose bleeding. Arthur cocks his chin to him. "The hell happened to you?" 

John wipes the blood away with the back of his hand. "Damn horse near bashed my teeth in," he explains. He isn't slow on fixating his eyes on the bag in Arthur's hand. "What's that? You're planning on staying the night?" 

"John!" Abigail scolds. 

"What? I was only asking!" John defends. 

"You're _more_ than welcome to stay the night, Arthur," Abigail assures and gives a meaningful look at her husband. 

Arthur readjusts his arm so Jack doesn't slip down. "Sure. That's uh, mighty kind of ya." He notices her hand holding over her slightly pouting belly. 

"How was it in Illinois?" Abigail then asks quickly, as if she had been eager for the right moment to ask. 

Arthur glares at John by that. 

John clears his throat and furrows his brows uncomfortably. "I'm sure Arthur will tell us when he feels like it, Abby. Why don't you go and put on some coffee?" 

"Oh, _alright_ ," Abigail reluctantly agrees, having to wait to hear about Arthur's trip. She retreats inside the house. 

John reaches out a hand. "Here. Let me take that for you."

Arthur lets the other carry the bag for him. He smirks when John isn't ready for how heavy it is. 

"Shit. What you got in here anyways?" John murmurs to himself as he guides them inside the house. 

27\. unpopular preferences of friends 

The two men and the boy sleep outdoors by a nearby lake the same night. Having spent the whole day fishing, it's a well needed relaxation for both of the men. 

"So. How long are you staying?" John asks as they share a flask by the fire, an exhausted Jack passed out in his father's lap.

"I reckon I'll leave in the morning." 

"So soon?" 

"Yeah well… I've got work on Monday," Arthur reminds. 

"Right." 

Arthur looks at Jack and thinks about the life growing inside of Abigail. He gestures idly at his own stomach. "She uh, didn't mention the pregnancy to me." 

"She don't know you know. She'll probably tell about it in the morning or something. Just act like it's the first time you hear about it. It'll make her happy." 

" 'Course."

John lights two cigarettes and hands one to the other. "Look. About Chicago. If the subject is brought up again, don't mind Abigail and her inquiries. She's just happy you've met someone, Arthur." 

Arthur pauses to stare at John before taking a deep drag from the unfiltered cigarette but he doesn't give a verbal response.

"So… how the hell was it?" John smiles. 

Arthur exhales slowly, creating a thick white smoke around him. "How was what?" 

"Uuuh. Visiting _her?_ ...God you're thick sometimes." 

"I uh… _wasn't_ … with Charlotte," Arthur confesses very slowly. 

John furrows a brow. "Whaddaya mean you weren't with Charlotte. You sai-" 

"That bag you carried inside before." 

John’s eyes dart left to right from the change of subject. "What about it…?" 

Arthur looks down at the sleeping and peaceful face of the small child getting too big to lie like that in John's embrace. "There's 1,5 million dollars in there. Consider it my gift to ya. For the baby to come. And for… him." He nods down at the child. "For your future," he adds. 

John is speechless. "1,5… million…? Where did you-" He stops talking, a realisation hitting him. 

Arthur scratches at his chin that was starting to become beardy. "I met with… _him_." 

John's eyes shoot wide open. "What??" Despite Jack being fast asleep, John hurriedly rests the cigarette between his lips only to cover both free hands over the child's ears. "You _fucking_ lied to me? You said you hadn't heard from him…!" he hisses with intensity. 

" _He_ came to find _me,_ not the other way around," Arthur explains with a whisper and keeps his eyes fixated at John's dark ones. 

Another realisation washes over John. "Jesus. _You_ was the one to help him across the border, weren't you?" John shoots out with an accusatory tone. "They said on the news the other day they'd given up the search for him. That was thanks to _you_ …?" 

Arthur doesn't try to hide his actions. "Yes. I drove him 'cross the country. Took his sorry ass to the border," he tells. Shamelessly so. 

"Christ." John needs a moment to take it all in. 

Arthur shakes his head to himself. "...Everyone was right back then. He fucking knew where the money was, John." 

"No shit…!" John exclaims with big eyes, his voice turning even more hoarse than it already is. "So what, you risked your life for that fucking money? For, for _him?_ What if you'd been caught? What would _I_ tell Jack if you'd end up in prison, _huh??"_

Arthur sighs. "Look-" 

"No…! It's bad enough Jack's got a criminal grandfather and _I'm_ the one who has to excuse the man _every_ _single_ year for not being able to come to his goddamn birthday 'cause he's too _paranoid_ 'bout living in the states," John rushes out without taking a pause to breathe. "But _you…?_ You're his fucking _uncle_ , Arthur. _My_ brother. And I thought we left that life behind when Dutch did." 

The disappointment from John is so heavy that Arthur could almost feel it drown him. He doesn't let it. "When I asked you what _you_ would do if you'd find the money, you said you'd take it. Without telling a goddamn soul," he retorts. 

"I _know_ what I said, Arthur."

"If you _hadn't_ , I wouldn't have come here to goddamn give it to you. So please. Just take it. I know you need it," Arthur urges. 

John raises his brows and shakes his head with a huff, not quite able to deny it. 

"You've been talking about expanding that ranch of yours for years and I'm getting sick and tired of hearing it." Arthur takes a swig from the flask almost angrily. He points it at John afterwards. "And don't get me started on the house. How many times haven't I come here and helped you fix that goddamn roof of yours, hm? You want your kids growing up in a shithole like that?" 

John lowers his head, knowing the other is right. "Alright… alright." He calms down by the mention of his soon to be _children_ , getting filled with guilt of his own. 

"Oh, so you're gonna stop talking back now, _boy?"_ Arthur asks with a hard voice and face, sounding a lot like a big brother by then. 

John moves his hands away from Jack's ears, lifting them lightly instead as to surrender. "...Yes." 

"Good."

A silent minute or two passes by. Uncomfortable but important. 

"The money-"

"They're clean," Arthur informs so confidently that his words are enough for John to not question again. 

"Okay…" John nods twice. Slowly. "Okay. Shit... I don't know how to thank-" 

"Just don't, then," Arthur answers simply. "There's no need."

Eventually, John rests his eyes for a moment. He both smiles and huffs out a laugh at the turn of events in his life. "You really did _all that_ for us…? Helped _him_ for the money? Or what exactly went down?" 

Arthur doesn't feel like talking about it but he couldn't leave John without _some_ answers. "Well, I…" 

"You knew he had them, didn't you?" 

Arthur glances up at the star-filled sky. "...Actually - no... I wasn't sure Micah knew where the money was-"

"Oh I hate the sound of his _fucking_ name." John almost shivers from hearing it after all these years. 

Arthur pauses, knowing that John had always hated the man and with passion. "and I didn't even think about the money at first, truth be told, even if I had my suspicions." 

"So _what,_ he blackmailed you into coming along or something?" John asks, as if it's the only other explanation to help the man out. 

Arthur’s eyes crash to the ground. "You could say that." 

John shakes his head in contempt. "Fucking asshole." 

Arthur isn't gonna excuse Micah in any way but considering it isn't the _whole_ truth, it feels odd sticking with only that and pretend like it was. "I _wanted_ … to help him, John," he admits quietly. 

John furrows his brows deeply as he couldn't fathom the idea of it. "Wh... _Why…?_ He's a rotten goddamn- _"_

" 'CAUSE he needed _me_ and he used to be my best goddamn friend." Arthur looks the other straight in the eye. 

"...Oh you're fucking sick." John actually looks disgusted. 

Arthur chuckles genuinely to that, almost selfishly like Micah.

"Sick," John repeats. 

Arthur takes a long drag from his smoke. "When he _first_ , uh, _told_ me he knew where the money was, _that's_ when I started thinking about all of you..."

John nods his chin at him. "What about you? You do… kept some for yourself, right? Wasn't it 3 million dollars that disappeared? How much did _you_ get?"

"I got enough. And I'll leave it at that," Arthur tells sincerely. Shortly. Marking how serious he is about not wanting to explain who had the rest and how much. John accepts it with a serious line of his lips, not too pleased. 

"Arthur…" John then says quietly. "You didn't give all to us, ri-" 

Arthur lips curl slightly as he talks over the other once more. "I've got everything I _need_ , John. I don't need _that_ much more. But you - you've got several mouths to feed and a house to fix. So please. Do _not_ question me, you hear? You'll always be my kid brother. And if I want to look out for ya, just fucking let me, alright?" 

John seems overwhelmed and he only manages to nod a few grateful times with a humble face. Accepting Arthur's stubbornness. "So. Where did the bastard hide the money anyways? I remember Javier and Charles couldn't find it and they must've looked all over the damn country back then."

Arthur shakes his head to himself. "It don't matter." He didn't feel like spilling out all the details about Cleet and Joe and the wrongdoings of Micah. "It don't matter," he repeats, wanting to leave it at that too. 

"...Alright." 

"Mm-hm."

John looks down and strokes a couple strands of dark hair out of Jack's forehead. "Those money's gonna help. A _lot_." He looks directly at the other. "Thank you, Arthur." 

Arthur nods several times as to hide that he himself had become somewhat overwhelmed. He swallows. "That's… great. That's all I wanted."

  
  


28\. back to normal 

Arthur lifts down Copper from the passenger seat, the old dog starting to become reluctant to jump down on his own. Arthur gives a single wave to John and Jack who had driven behind him with their horse trailer carrying Boadicea all the way back to Willard's Rest. 

"Feels good to be home again, don't it, girl?" Patting a calmed down Boadicea a couple of times as she walks around freely, immediately grazing on the small land that is his, Arthur breathes in the familiar scent of her. 

Copper seems happy as well, moving alongside Arthur as he walks up to the porch. The both of them retreats to their usual spots - Copper lying down in front of the door, Arthur sitting himself on the glider bench. 

Rocking back and forth absently, he brings up the note from Micah again. He should just discard it since it didn't serve any purpose anymore with the car back in his possession. He stares at the handwriting and sighs before deciding to crumple it together and put it at the table next to him. 

Arthur looks around his home. All is well in Willard's Rest. 

29\. save, not toss 

It's early December when Arthur returns from work, freezing his ass off. Having picked up his uninteresting mail on the way, he tosses them on the table as he gets inside. He almost doesn't notice the small envelope that had been hiding between the newspapers. 

He stares at it with wariness before he slides the other papers aside. With cold fingers, he turns the no sender envelope to look it over. Opening it and pulling a note out of it, the single word is enough to make a full smile appear on his face. 

_"STAIRWAY"_

And that's all. Arthur flips the paper. There's nothing on the back. He gets a sneaky look on his face as he puts it back in the Mexico stamped envelope addressed to him. He taps it over the tabletop. He doesn't toss this one away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Frontera bridge isn't a railroad bridge in this fic. 
> 
> Sincere apologies for taking so long to update the last of it. It's not like me. I've just not been feelin it lately. At all. Guess I was feelin it tonight. 
> 
> To all of you reading, thank you for your kudos and encouraging comments, it's been great help. 
> 
> Take care.
> 
> Additional note: I had originally another chapter written where Arthur eventually visits Micah in Escalera "STAIRWAY", Mexico. It turned out to be really fkn corny though, mostly because of the romantic that I am. But do know, that the idea is that they'll end up together again, one way or another. So this is actually a happy ending.


End file.
